Jimbo could hardly keep his eyes alight, and Monkey's hair
was like a baby haystack the wind had treated to an equinoctial storm.
Jinny, stiff, perplexed, and solemn with exhaustion, yet dared not
betray it because she was older, in measurable distance of her hair
going up.
'Why don't you play with the others, child?' asked Mother, finding her
upright on a sofa while the romp went on.
'Oh, to-night,' Jinny explained, 'I sit indifferent and look on. I
don't always feel like skedivvying about!'
To skedivvy was to chivvy and skedaddle--its authority not difficult
to guess.
'Good-bye, Cousinenry,' each gasped, as his big arms went round them
and squeezed out the exclamation. 'Oh, thank you most awfully,' came
next, with another kiss, produced by his pressing something hard and
round and yellow into each dirty little hand. 'It's only a bit of
crystallised starlight,' he explained, 'that escaped long ago from the
Cave. And starlight, remember, shines for everybody as well as for
yourselves. You can buy a stamp with it occasionally, too,' he added,
'and write to me.'
'We will. Of course!'
Jimbo straightened up a moment before the final collapse of sleep.
'Your train leaves at 6.23,' he said, with the authority of exclusive
information. 'You must be at the station at six to get the _bagages
enregistrees_.
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