hot?'

'It is rather, but it must be nearly tea-time, let us have some tea and
then go out.'

'Can't; Marie's gone to see her sister,' replies Teddy, trying to see
himself in the knob at the end of the bedstead.

'Perhaps mother will come; but really Teddy do get off my bed, you are
making it in such a mess,' and she rushes at him, seizing him in her
arms, 'oh, what a dreadful little nephew you are.'

'Let go, let go,' he cries, between struggling and laughing, and then
mischievously, 'You don't look half pretty now, you're quite red.
I'll--tell Mr Dal--'

'Mr who?' asks Lippa, putting him down.

'Sha'n't tell you,' he says, making for the door, but Philippa is too
quick for him, and placing her back against it, says in tones of mild
reproof,

'Do you know, it is very rude to make personal remarks.'

'Is it?' he asks, 'well you see it was only to Mr Dalrymple, and I've
known him for such a great many years, I met him yesterday, he was
walking the same way as me, and--you've got a hair-pin coming out, Aunt
Lippa.'

'Never mind that,' says she, adjusting the straying article, 'and--'