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The Maid-At-Arms by Robert W. (Robert William) Chambers
page 28 of 422 (06%)

Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived a group of youthful
barbarians on the stairs, intently watching us. As my eyes fell on them
they scattered, then closed in together defiantly. A red-haired lad of
seventeen came down the steps, offering his hand awkwardly.

"I'm Ruyven Varick," he said. "These girls are fools to bait men of our
age--" He broke off to seize Dorothy by the arm. "Give me that watch,
you vixen!"

His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyven stood sullenly clutching
a handful of torn lace.

"Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?" spoke up a maid of
sixteen.

"Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retorted Ruyven, edging again
towards his sister.

I protested that I did; and Dorothy, with mock empressement, presented
me to Cecile Butler, a slender, olive-skinned girl with pretty, dark
eyes, who offered me her hand to kiss in such determined manner that I
bowed very low to cover my smile, knowing that she had witnessed my
salute to my cousin Dorothy and meant to take nothing less for herself.

"And those boys yonder are Harry Varick and Sam Butler, my cousins,"
observed Dorothy, nonchalantly relapsing into barbarism to point them
out separately with her pink-tipped thumb; "and that lad on the stairs
is Benny. Come on, we're to throw hunting-knives for pennies. Can
you?--but of course you can."
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