'Very well, dears, so long as you don't make too much noise,' was the
sole comment of this most provokingly placid lady. What she ought to
have done was, of course, to throw down her work, raise her eyes to the
clouds, clasp her hands, and observe, in an agitated tone, 'Heaven
protect us! We are lost!' But few mothers are capable of really rising
to emergencies of this kind.

Hilary and Cecily had been playing tennis, and, overhearing the alarming
news, came up to the steps of the verandah. 'Did you say Red Indians
were coming here?'

Uncle Lambert shook his head lugubriously. 'I always warned your
father,' he remarked; 'but he _would_ come to live in Berkshire.'

'Why?' inquired Cecily. 'Is Berkshire a bad place for Red Indians,
uncle?'

'I should say it was one of the worst places in all Europe!' he said
solemnly.

Both Hilary and Cecily had heard and read a good deal about Red Indians
lately, and had also, with their brothers, visited the American
Exhibition, so that it did not strike either of them as unlikely just
then that there should be a few scattered about in England, just as
gipsies are.

'But what are you going to do about it?' they asked their brother.

'Lick 'em, of course!' said Guy. 'Now you see that an army is some use,
after all.'

'Don't be taken alive, there's good boys,' advised their frivolous
uncle, who seemed still unable to realise the extreme gravity of the
occasion. 'Sell your lives as dearly as possible.'

'What is the use of telling them that, uncle?' exclaimed Cecily. 'They
wouldn't get the money; and do you think any of _us_ would touch it? How
can you talk in that horrid way? Jack and Guy, don't go to that camp.
Let the Indians have it, if they want to; you can soon build another.'

'You don't understand,' said Jack, impatiently. 'We can't have a lot of
Red Indians in our camp--it wouldn't be safe for you.'

'Oh, I shall go and speak to Clarence,' she cried. 'I'm sure he won't
want to fight them.' And she ran down to the end of the lawn, where he
could be seen returning with Hazel.

'I want to speak to you quite alone,' she said. 'No, Hazel, it's a
secret,' and she drew him aside.

'Clarence,' she said, and her blue eyes were dark with fear, 'tell
me--are the Indians really coming?'

'You can judge for yourself,' he said, and gave her the paper. 'We've
just had this thrown over the stockade. It seems to have been written by
somebody who is in their secrets.'

'How badl