Jack's perfections as a separate impertinence: "this is a PRIVATE road."
She drew herself fairly up here, although gurgled at in the ear and
pinched in the arm by her companion.

"I beg your pardon," said Jack, meekly. "I see I'm trespassing on your
grounds. I'm very sorry. Thank you for telling me. I should have gone on
a mile or two farther, I suppose, until I came to your house," he added,
innocently.

"A mile or two! You'd have run chock ag'in' our gate in another minit,"
said the short-lipped one, eagerly. But a sharp nudge from her companion
sent her back again into cover, where she waited expectantly for another
crushing retort from her protector.

But, alas! it did not come. One cannot be always witty, and Jack looked
distressed. Nevertheless, he took advantage of the pause.

"It was so stupid in me, as I think your brother"--looking at
Short-lip--"very carefully told me the road."

The two girls darted quick glances at each other. "Oh, Bawb!" said the
first speaker, in wearied accents,--"THAT limb! He don't keer."

"But he DID care," said Hamlin, quietly, "and gave me a good deal of
information. Thanks to him, I was able to see that ferny wood that's so
famous--about two miles up the road. You know--the one that there's a
poem written about!"

The shot told! Short-lip burst into a display of dazzling little teeth
and caught the other girl convulsively by the shoulders. The superior