Part 18 (2/2)

Cissy went up suddenly and kissed him. It was only a peck which reached land at the top corner of his ear; but it made Hugh John crimson hotly, and fend Cissy off with his elbow as if she had been a big boy about to strike.

”There, now,” she said, ”I've done it. I promised I would, and what's more, I'll say it out loud--'I love you!' There! And if you don't mind and behave, I'll tell people. I will, now then. But all the same, I'm sorry I was a beast to you.”

”Well, don't do it again,” said Hugh John, somewhat mollified, slightly dropping the point of his defensive elbow. ”Anybody might have seen you, and then what would they think?”

”All right,” said Cissy soothingly, ”I won't any more.”

”Say 'Hope-you-may-die!'”

Cissy promptly hoped she might come to an early grave in the event of again betraying, even in private, the exuberance of her young affection.

”Now, Hugh John,” said Cissy, when peace had been restored in this manner, and they were wandering amicably across the back meadow where they could not be seen from the house windows, taking alternate sucks at a stick of brown toffee with crumbs stuck firmly on it, the property of Cissy, ”I've something to tell you. I've found the allies for you; and we can whop the Smoutchies and take the castle now--any time.”

The eyes of General Napoleon Smith glistened.

”If that's true,” he said, ”you can kiss me again--no, not now,” he added hastily, moving off a little, ”but after, when it's all over, you know. There's a good place behind the barn. You can do it there if you like.”

”Will _you_ say 'I love you, Cissy'?”

But this was more than Hugh John had bargained for. He asked time for consideration.

”It won't be till the Smoutchy boys are beaten and the castle ours for good,” pleaded Cissy.

Hugh John felt that it was a great price to pay, but after all he did want dreadfully to beat the Smoutchy boys.

”Well, I'll try,” he said, ”but you must say, 'Hope-you'll-die and double-die,' if you ever tell!”

Again Cissy took the required oath.

”Well?” said he expectantly, his mind altogether on the campaign.

Cissy told him all about the gipsy encampment and the history of the meeting with Billy Blythe. Hugh John nodded. Of course he knew all about that, but would they join? Were they not rather on the side of the Smoutchies? They looked as if they would be.

”Oh, you can't never tell a bit beforehand,” said Cissy eagerly. ”They just hate the town boys; and Bill Blythe says that Nipper Donnan's father said, that when the town got the castle they would soon clear the gipsies off your common--for that goes with the castle.”

Hugh John nodded again more thoughtfully. There was certainly something in that. He had heard his father say as much to his lawyer when he himself was curled up on the sofa, pretending to read Froissart's ”Chronicles,” but really listening as hard as ever he could.

”You are a brick,” he cried, ”you are indeed, Cissy. Come on, let's go at once and see Billy Blythe.”

And he took her hand. She held back a moment. They were safe behind the great ivy bush at the back of the stables.

”Couldn't you say it now?” she whispered, with a soft light in her eyes; ”I wish you could. Try.”

Hugh John's face darkened. He uns.h.i.+pped his elbow from his side to be ready for action.

”Well, I won't ask you till after,” she said regretfully. ”'Tain't fair, I know; but--” she looked at him again yet more wistfully, still holding him by the hand which had last pa.s.sed over the mutual joint-stock candy-stick; ”don't you think you could do the other--just once?”

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