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Updated: May 13, 2025
I wouldn't be us, Fergs, my boy, when the Cap'n finds it out to-morrow." "Wait," said Hildegarde, "oh, wait! Don't let us give up hope. It will do no harm to look, Jerry." "No harm in life," said Jerry. "Just hold on to this wind, will you, while I get in." With some difficulty he opened the boat-house door; then, sheltered behind it, he struck a match, while all pressed eagerly forward.
"But you all look so home-like and comfortable here." "Especially Ferguson!" broke in Gerald, sotto voce. "How comfortable he looks, doesn't he, Miss Grahame? No use, Fergs! We marked your little footprints in the air, my son." "Oh!" said Philip, looking much discomposed. "Well, I'll punch your head, Obe, anyhow." "Suppose we come out and look at the tennis-court," said Bell.
Sure enough, in a few moments another tall boy entered, looking preternaturally grave, with his hair scrupulously smooth. "Been upstairs, you see," said the irrepressible Gerald, "and slicked himself all up. Quite the Beauty, Fergs." "Gerald, do be quiet!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "This is Philip, my other twin boy, Mrs. Grahame."
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