sight! Away they go, flying over the meadow, shouting, scrambling,
falling. Out after them plunges Harold, shirt-sleeved, one boot half
on, hobbling, leaping, bawling. Glorious to watch him! He outruns
them all; he outbellows them all. Of course he does. He is a man.
He is one of those splendid, wonderful, mysterious creatures to
whom, subject only to Rosalie's father, the entire world belongs.
Look at him, bounding, bawling! Wonderful, wonderful Harold!

But Robert is wonderful too. If it had been Anna or Flora or Hilda
gone off with the pump, she would have been easily caught. Not
Robert. Wonderful and mysterious Robert, wonderfully and mysteriously
pedalling at incredible speed, is not caught. The hunt dejectedly
trails back. The business of pushing Harold out of the house is
devotedly resumed.

And again--enthralling spectacle--just as the reign of Robert was
terminated by the accession of Harold, so the dominion of Harold
is overthrown by the accession of father. Harold is crowded about
with ministrants. Nobody can leave him for a minute. Rosalie's
father appears. Everybody leaves Harold simultaneously, abruptly,
and as if by magic. Rosalie's father appears. Everybody disappears.
Wonderful father! Everybody melts away: but Harold does not melt
away. Courageous Harold! Everybody melts; only Harold is left,
and Rosalie watching; and immediately, as always, the magnificent
males clash with sound and fury.

Rosalie's father scowls upon Harold and delivers his morning
greeting. No "Good morning, dear," as her mother would have said.
"Aren't you gone yet?" like a bark from a kennel.