"Paddy _was_ whipped that night," interpolated Joan solemnly, and Pat added innocently, "Yes, _naughty_ Paddy; but you can't 'spect no better of a 'pickle.'"
The tea-bell rang before they could have imagined it was time for that meal, and Monica, who was really somewhat shy of strangers, had to make the acquaintance of the twins' elder sisters. But Lois' kindly courtesy and Kathleen's merry chatter soon made her feel quite at home amongst them. The doctor, too, came in just as they had begun tea, the result of Olive's persistent pleading that he would be sure to be early so as to see her "dear Monica," and as he exerted himself to help entertain the young guest a sigh of regret rose to the latter's lips when the happy, homely meal was over.
A stroll round the old-fashioned garden with Olive and Elsa included a visit to the rabbit-hutch and dovecot, and ended with a splendid swing; the twins, who were by no means novices at swinging, being really frightened at the height to which Monica worked herself up. But she knew no fear, and rather enjoyed seeing the anxiety which Elsa evinced every time the ropes creaked uneasily.
"Oh, do go lower, Monica!" she pleaded; but the wayward girl only laughed. Even Olive tried to dissuade her from going so recklessly high, but Monica showed no sign of lessening her speed, and would doubtless have eventually overbalanced herself, had not little Joan run out to say that her mother was ready to see Monica now.
With a merry laugh the girl slowed down, and finally dropped from the seat and catching hold of Olive, said mischievously: "Were you afraid you would have to pick up a bundle of broken bones? I am sure Dr. Franklyn would have liked mending them up again!"
"Oh, don't, Monica!" was all Olive said, but her silence and Elsa's still scared-looking face, made Monica realise that she had gone a little too far, and she felt somewhat subdued as they retraced their steps to the house.
Kathleen came out of her mother's room as the girls tapped at the door.
"Mother is very anxious to see your friend, Olive," she said, with a bright little smile; "she is feeling fairly well to-day."
Monica was seized with a sudden fit of intense shyness, and would gladly have escaped the ordeal, but Olive, never dreaming that her haughty young friend was troubled with any such thing as nervousness, pushed her forward as the door closed after Kathleen's retreating figure, saying: "This is Monica Beauchamp, mother."