They had arranged to have dinner at a quarter to eight, and sat side by
side now, looking a little forlorn in the frocks they had grown out of,
and a little lonely, like half-fledged chicks, without their mother's
august protection.
"Loftie will wonder," said Mabel, "at mother going off to Manchester in
such a hurry."
It was the cook who had told Mabel about Manchester, Clara having
informed her.
"There's Loftus!" suddenly exclaimed Catherine. "I knew he'd walk. I
said so. There's the old shandrydan crawling after him with the luggage.
Come, Mabel. Let's fly to meet the dear old boy."
She was off and away herself before Mabel had time to scramble to her
feet. Her running was swift as a fawn's--in an instant she had reached
her brother--threw herself panting with laughter and joy against him,
and flung one arm round his neck.
"Here you are!" she said, her words coming out in gasps. "Isn't it
jolly? Such a fresh old place! Lots of strawberries--glad you'll see it
in the long days--give me a kiss, Loftie--I'm hungry for a kiss!"
"You're as wild an imp as ever," said Loftus, pinching her cheek, but
stooping and kissing her, nevertheless, with decided affection. "Why did
you put yourself out of breath, Kitty? Catch May setting her precious
little heart a-beating too fast for any fellow! Ah, here you come, lazy
Mabel.
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