’Ha, ha, old Small Change, don’t you wish you may get it?’—–­as Primrose proved to be outside the drive on one of the donkeys.  ’You’ve got nothing to do but gnaw your fists at us like old Giant Pope.’

‘For shame, Wilfred!’ said Jasper.  ’My mother did Primrose’s throat, nurse, so she is all right.’

‘Bad form,’ observed Lord Ivinghoe, shaking his head.

‘I’m not going to Eton,’ replied Wilfred audaciously.

’I should hope not!’—–­in a tone of ineffable contempt, not for Wilfred’s person, but his manners, and therewith his Lordship exclaimed, ‘Who’s that?’ as Maura came flying down with Gillian’s forgotten basket.

‘Oh, that’s Maura White!’ said Valetta.

‘I say, isn’t she going with us?’

‘Oh no, she has to look after her sister!’

‘Don’t you think we might take her, Gill?’ said Fly.  ’She never gets any fun.’

’I don’t think she ought to leave Kalliope to-day, Fly, for nurse is going down to Il Lido; and besides, Aunt Jane said we must not take all Rockquay with us.’

’No, they would not let us ask Kitty and Clement Varley, said Fergus disconsolately.

‘I am sure she is five times as pretty as your Kitty!’ returned Ivinghoe.  ‘She is a regular stunner.’  Whereby it may be perceived that a year at Eton had considerably modified his Lordship’s correctness of speech, if not of demeanour.  Be it further observed that, in spite of the escort of the governesses, the young people were as free as if those ladies had been absent, for, as Jasper observed, the donkeys neutralised them.  Miss Elbury, being a bad walker, rode one, and Miss Vincent felt bound to keep close to Primrose upon the other; and as neither animal could be prevailed on to moderate its pace, they kept far ahead of all except Valetta, who was mounted on the pony intended for Lady Phyllis, but disdained by her until she should be tired.  Lord Ivinghoe’s admiration of Maura was received contemptuously by Wilfred, who was half a year younger than his cousin, and being already, in his own estimation, a Wykehamist, had endless rivalries with him.

’She!  She’s nothing but a cad!  Her sister is a shop-girl, and her brother is a quarryman.’

‘She does not look like it,’ observed Ivinghoe, while Mysie and Fly, with one voice, exclaimed that her father was an officer in the Royal Wardours.

‘A private first,’ said Wilfred, with boyhood’s reiteration.  ’Cads and quarrymen all of them—–­the whole boiling, old White and all, though he has got such a stuck-up house!’

‘Nonsense, Will,’ said Fly.  ‘Why, Mr. White has dined with us.’

’A patent of nobility, said Jasper, smiling.

‘I don’t care,’ said Wilfred; ’if other people choose to chum with old stonemasons and convicts, I don’t.’

‘Wilfred, that is too bad,’ said Gillian.  ’It is very wrong to talk in that way.’

‘Oh!’ said the audacious Wilfred, ‘we all know who is Gill’s Jack!’