r?"

"Oh, yes, of course, auntie, if they rise."

"Oh, Hilton, how late you are!" sighed the lady, and her stiff dress
rustled over the carpet as she moved forward in a stately way, frowning,
and then smiling with satisfaction, for her nephew darted to the door to
throw it open, catching directly at the soft white hand extended to him
and kissing it. Then, closing the door, he indulged in a frantic kind
of dance, expressive of the most extreme delight, one, however, which
came to a sudden end, the boy stopping short in a most absurd position
as if suddenly turned to stone, for the door was quickly opened and a
head was thrust into the room.

CHAPTER THREE.

FOUR PEOPLE'S SKELETONS.

"Hi! You, Jane, what are you always listening at the door for?"

"So as to be ready to see you coming your games," said the maid,
laughing, "Ha, ha, ha! He thought it was his aunt, ketching him on the
hop!"

"That I didn't, old saucy one."

"Yes, you did, and I've a good mind to tell her what a beauty you are--
there!"

"Do; and I'll tell her what I saw in the shrubbery last week. Mark my
words; see if I don't I will; mark my words."

"You tell if you dare!" cried the maid, with flaming face.

"Oh, I dare."

"But you won't. You wouldn't be such a coward. I say, going out?"

"Yes, I want some sandwiches--a good lot. And, look here, get uncle's
flask and half fill it with milk, and then fill it up with sherry."

"What for? What are you going to do?"

"The May-fly's up."

"Up where?"

"Get out! Over the river. I'm going fishing."

"Don't believe you. You're going to the races."

"Sh!" the boy hissed, and looked sharply round.

"There, I knew it!" cried the girl. "I'll tell her ladyship, and stop
that."

"Just you do. I'm going whipping the stream."

"Don't believe it. But she'll be whipping you for a naughty boy."

"Shrubbery and old Mark," said the boy, thoughtfully, as if speaking to
himself. "Wonder what sort of a pair the new parlourmaid and groom and
valet would be?"

"Oh, you!" cried the girl, with scarlet face and flashing eyes, in which
the tears began to rise, making her dart out of the room so that they
should not be seen.

"Checkmate, Miss Dustpan!" said Sydney, with a chuckle. "What a sharp
one she is, though. My word! I never liked old Trim before. He's off
on some game of his own. Artful old beast! He isn't such a saint as he
pretends. Can't be going to the races, can he?