He was Dr. Tremayne's grandson and his
home was in London. The girls had never seen him, as he had not paid a
visit to Durracombe during the last year, and they were very curious to
know what he was like. Any misgivings which they may have cherished
vanished instantly, however, at the first sight of Clive. He was a very
big boy of twelve, as tall as Merle, with merry grey eyes that looked
capable of fun. He was, of course, full of the affairs of his own
preparatory school, but as he found they were ready to listen to his
accounts of football matches or dormitory 'rags' he took them into his
masculine confidence and extended the hand of friendship. He showed a
particular fancy for Merle, whose robuster constitution allowed her to
tear about with him and indulge in some rather hoydenish performances.
"You're a thorough tomboy!" said Mother, having called her younger
daughter down from the coach-house roof, whither she had climbed in
company with her cousin.
"Well, you see, Mummie dear, I have to amuse Clive!" was always Merle's
excuse.
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