"You know this house well?"
She shook her head. "But it's rather scrummy, isn't it?"Bob Pillin, who had never yet thought so answered:
"Quite O.K."
The girl threw up her head to laugh again. "O.K.? What's that?"Bob Pillin saw her white round throat, and thought: 'She is a ripper!' And he said with a certain desperation:
"My name's Pillin. Yours is Larne, isn't it? Are you a relation here?""He's our Guardy. Isn't he a chook?"
That rumbling whisper like "Scratch a Poll, Poll!" recurring to Bob Pillin, he said with reservation:
"You know him better than I do." "Oh! Aren't you his grandson, or something?"Bob Pillin did not cross himself.
"Lord! No! My dad's an old friend of his; that's all.""Is your dad like him?"
"Not much."
"What a pity! It would have been lovely if they'd been Tweedles."Bob Pillin thought: 'This bit is something new. I wonder what her Christian name is.' And he said:
"What did your godfather and godmothers in your baptism---?"The girl laughed; she seemed to laugh at everything.
"Phyllis."
Could he say: "Is my only joy"? Better keep it! But-for what? He wouldn't see her again if he didn't look out! And he said:
"I live at the last house in the park-the red one. D'you know it?
Where do you?"
"Oh! a long way--23, Millicent Villas. It's a poky little house. Ihate it. We have awful larks, though."
"Who are we?"
"Mother, and myself, and Jock--he's an awful boy. You can't conceive what an awful boy he is. He's got nearly red hair; I think he'll be just like Guardy when he gets old. He's awful!"Bob Pillin murmured:
"I should like to see him."
"Would you? I'll ask mother if you can. You won't want to again; he goes off all the time like a squib." She threw back her head, and again Bob Pillin felt a little giddy. He collected himself, and drawled:
"Are you going in to see your Guardy?"
"No. Mother's got something special to say. We've never been here before, you see. Isn't he fun, though?""Fun!"