Lucille was the daughter of Sylvester Bethune Gavestone, the late and lamented Bishop of Minsterbury (once a cavalry subaltern), a school, Sandhurst, and life-long friend of “Grandfather,” and husband of “Grandfather’s” cousin, Geraldine Seymour Stukeley.

Poor “Grandfather,” known to the children as “Grumper,” the ferocious old tyrant who loved all mankind and hated all men, with him adoption was a habit, and the inviting of other children to stay as long as they liked with the adopted children, a craze.

And yet he rarely saw the children, never played with them, and hated to be disturbed.

He had out-lived his soldier-contemporaries, his children, his power to ride to hounds, his pretty taste in wine, his fencing, dancing, flirting, and all that had made life bearable—­everything, as he said, but his gout and his liver (and, it may be added, except his ferocious, brutal temper).

“Yes....  Let us circumvent, decoy, and utterly destroy the common Haddock,” agreed Dam.

The entry into the nursery was an effective night-attack by Blackfeet (not to mention hands) but was spoilt by the presence of Miss Smellie who was sitting there knitting relentlessly.

“Never burst into rooms, children,” she said coldly.  “One expects little of a boy, but a girl should try to appear a Young Lady.  Come and sit by me, Lucille.  What did you come in for—­or rather for what did you burst in?”

“We came to play with the Haddock,” volunteered Dam.

“Very kind and thoughtful of you, I am sure,” commented Miss Smellie sourly.  “Most obliging and benevolent,” and, with a sudden change to righteous anger and bitterness, “Why don’t you speak the truth?”

“I am speaking the truth, Miss—­er—­Smellie,” replied the boy.  “We did come to play with the dear little Haddock—­like one plays with a football or a frog.  I didn’t say we came for Haddock’s good.”

“We needed the Haddock, you see, Miss Smellie,” confirmed Lucille.

“How many times am I to remind you that Haddon Berners’ name is Haddon, Lucille,” inquired Miss Smellie.  “Why must you always prefer vulgarity?  One expects vulgarity from a boy—­but a girl should try to appear a Young Lady.”

With an eye on Dam, Lucille protruded a very red tongue at surprising length, turned one eye far inward toward her nose, wrinkled that member incredibly, corrugated her forehead grievously, and elongated her mouth disastrously.  The resultant expression of countenance admirably expressed the general juvenile view of Miss Smellie and all her works.

Spurred to honourable emulation, the boy strove to excel.  Using both hands for the elongation of his eyes, the extension of his mouth, and the depression of his ears, he turned upon the Haddock so horrible a mask that the stricken child burst into a howl, if not into actual tears.

“What’s the matter, Haddon?” demanded Miss Smellie, looking up with quick suspicion.