Make Lucy join you." They descended the stairs, holding closely to each other.

Old Colonel Everard, very red and tearful, met them at the foot, and folded Nan tightly in his arms, murmuring inarticulate words of blessing.
Nan emerged from his embrace pale but quite tearless.
"Au revoir, dad!" she said, in her sprightliest tone.

"You will be having me back like a bad half-penny before you can turn round." Still laughing, she went from one to another of her family with words of careless farewell, and finally rah the gauntlet of her well-wishers to the waiting carriage, into which she dived without ceremony to avoid the hail of rice that pursued her.
Her husband followed her closely, and they were off almost before he took his seat beside her.
"Thank goodness, that's over!" said Nan, with fervour.

"I'll never marry again if I live to be a hundred! I am sure being buried must be much more fun, and not nearly so ignominious." She leaned forward with the words, and was on the point of letting down the window, when there was a sudden, deafening report close to them.

The carriage jerked and swerved violently, and in an instant it was being whirled down the drive at the top speed of two terrified horses.
Instinctively Nan turned to the man beside her.
"It's the boys!" she exclaimed.