re will be," said the aunt, privately resolving that
Nicholas should have none of it.
"Now I know that you are the Evil One and not aunt," shouted Nicholas
gleefully; "when we asked aunt for strawberry jam yesterday she said
there wasn't any. I know there are four jars of it in the store
cupboard, because I looked, and of course you know it's there, but she
doesn't, because she said there wasn't any. Oh, Devil, you _have_ sold
yourself!"
There was an unusual sense of luxury in being able to talk to an aunt as
though one was talking to the Evil One, but Nicholas knew, with childish
discernment, that such luxuries were not to be over-indulged in. He
walked noisily away, and it was a kitchenmaid, in search of parsley, who
eventually rescued the aunt from the rain-water tank.
Tea that evening was partaken of in a fearsome silence. The tide had
been at its highest when the children had arrived at Jagborough Cove, so
there had been no sands to play on--a circumstance that the aunt had
overlooked in the haste of organising her punitive expedition. The
tightness of Bobby's boots had had disastrous effect on his temper the
whole of the afternoon, and altogether the children could not have been
said to have enjoyed themselves. The aunt maintained the frozen muteness
of one who has suffered undignified and unmerited detention in a rain-
water tank for thirty-five minutes. As for Nicholas, he, too, was
silent, in the absorption of one who has much to think about; it was just
possible, he considered, that the huntsman would escape with his hounds
while the wolves feasted on the stricken stag.
FUR
"You look worried, dear," said Eleanor.
"I am worried," admitted Suzanne; "not worried exactly, but anxious. You
see, my birthday happens next week--"
"You lucky person," interrupted Eleanor; "my birthday doesn't come till
the end of March."
"Well, old Bertram Kneyght is over in England just now from the
Argentine. He's a kind of distant cousin of my mother's, and so
enormously rich that we've never let the relationship drop out of sight.
Even if we don't see him or hear from him for years he is always Cousin
Bertram when he does turn up. I can't say he's ever been of much solid
use to us, but yesterday the subject of my birthday cropped up, and he
asked me to let him know what I wanted for a present."
"Now I understand the anxiety," observed Eleanor.
"As a rule when one is confronted with a problem l
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