"Stand on the steps, here," he whispered, "then you can see him.
That's the Colonel--the man at the end of the table, with the big,
grey moustache."

He touched her arm. She sprang away and stamped her foot.

"Keep off with you! Who _told_ you?--Oh! you bad boy!"

"Nobody. I thought you hated boys who wait to be told."

"And now you'll get the whooping-cough, and goodness knows what will
happen to you, and you needn't think I'll be sorry!"

"Who wants you to be sorry! As for you," Taffy went on sturdily, "I
think your grandfather might have more sense than to keep you waiting
out here in the cold, and giving your cough to the whole town!"

"Ha! you do, do you?"

It was not the girl who said this. Taffy swung round, and saw an old
man staring down on him. There was just light enough to reveal that
he had very formidable grey eyes. But Taffy's blood was up.

"Yes, I do," he said, and wondered at himself.

"Ha! Does your father whip you sometimes?"

"No, sir."

"I should if you were my boy. I believe in it. Come, Honoria!"