But the battle of that Saturday noon hour was witnessed only by the
sparrows, who were too busy lugging bits of straw and twine to
half-completed nests in the cornices of the House of Seagrave, to pay
much attention to the combat of the Seagrave children, who had gone
quite mad with the happiness of companionship and were expressing it
with all their might.

Naïda's dark curls mingled with the grass several times before Geraldine
comprehended that her new companion was absurdly at her mercy; and then
she seized her with all the desperation of first possession and kissed
her hard.

"It's ended," breathed Geraldine tremulously, "and nobody gained the
victory and--you _will_ love me, won't you?"

"I don't know--I'm all dirt." She looked at Geraldine, bewildered by the
passion of the lonely child's caresses. "Yes--I do love you, Geraldine.
Oh, _look_ at those boys! How perfectly disgraceful! They _must_
stop--make them stop, Geraldine!"

Hair on end, grass-stained, dishevelled, and unspeakably dirty, the boys
were now sparring for breath. Grime and perspiration streaked their
countenances. Duane Mallett wore a humorously tinted eye and a
prehensile upper lip; Scott's nose had again yielded to the coy
persuasion of a left-handed jab and the proud blood of the Seagraves
once more offended high heaven on that April day.

Geraldine, one arm imprisoning Naïda's waist, walked coolly in between
them: