Will you ?" His nurse was calling him to descend, in tones agitated and peremptory; the boy hesitated, scowled at Scott, looked uncertainly at Geraldine, then shot a hasty and hostile glance at the interior of the mysterious Seagrave estate.

Curiosity overcame him; also, perhaps, a natural desire for battle.
"Yes," he said to Scott, "I'll come back and punch your head for you." And very deftly, clinging like a squirrel to the pendant wistaria, he let himself down into the street again.
The Seagrave twins, intensely excited, watched them as far as Fifth Avenue, then rapidly drawing on their shoes and stockings, scrambled down to the shrubbery and raced for the house.

Through it they passed like a double whirlwind; feeble and perfunctory resistance was offered by their nurses.
"Get out of my way!" said Geraldine fiercely; "do you think I'm going to miss the first chance for some fun that I've ever had in all my life ?" At the same moment, through the glass-sheeted grill Scott discovered two small figures dashing up the drive to the porte-cochere.

And he turned on Lang like a wild cat.
Lang, the man at the door, was disposed to defend his post; Scott prepared to fly at him, but his sister intervened: "Oh, Lang," she pleaded, jumping up and down in an agony of apprehension, "please, _please_, let them in! We've never had any friends." She caught his arm piteously; he looked fearfully embarrassed, for the Seagrave livery was still new to him; nor, during his brief service, had he fully digested the significance of the policy which so rigidly guarded these little children lest rumour from without apprise them of their financial future and the contaminating realisation undermine their simplicity.
As he stood, undecided, Geraldine suddenly jerked his hand from the bronze knob and Scott flung open the door.
"Come on! Quick!" he cried; and the next moment four small pairs of feet were flying through the hall, echoing lightly across the terrace, then skimming the lawn to the sheltering shrubbery beyond.
"The thing to do," panted Scott, "is to keep out of sight." He seized his guests by the arms and drew them behind the rhododendrons.

"Now," he said, "what's your name?
You, I mean!" "Duane Mallett," replied the boy, breathless.