"Georgie"
"Yes. Oh, here's Drusilla and old Muffin face. I am glad to see you looking so fit and beautiful, Drusie. I want—may we come round by the Little Mansion and have some tea, as a sort of break in the journey, you know? The porter can take my bag home. I want to have a nice, serious talk with you and Martin. You'll let us come, won't you?"
Us! Drusilla gazed in wondering silence at Georgie and his new friend. And well she might. Clinging in tight desperation to his hand was a little forlorn-looking boy in a shabby, tight sailor-suit of weather-beaten blue serge a splendid little boy with black, fierce brows and wonderful eyes; with a sulky scarlet cupid's bow of a mouth and a sun-browned skin. In his grubby hand he clutched tightly a sailor cap, flaunting in tarnished gold letters the word "Conqueror." Drusilla stooped and told him he was a dear, pretty boy, but he merely scowled at her for the attention with whole-hearted disapproval.
"Isn't he a ripping little chap?"
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