A Christmas Kiss by Elizabeth; Mansfield

it, “what’s amiss here?” And he wiped away the tears as unobtrusively as possible.
    â€œFreddie kicked me,” the boy answered truculently.
    â€œI did not!” shouted the other, twisting powerlessly in Reggie’s grip.
    â€œSo your brother’s name is Freddie,” Jamie said to his charge. “What’s yours?”
    â€œT-Ted—Theodore.”
    â€œOh, I thay!” Reggie said, exchanging amused looks with Jamie. “Freddie and Teddie!”
    â€œThat was Mama’s idea, not ours!” said Freddie, still struggling to free himself of Reggie’s grip.
    â€œBe quiet!” Reggie said sternly. “A boy who kickth hith brother ith not worthy of lithening to.”
    The boy twisted around and looked at Reggie with interest. “You said that wrong,” he accused. “You sound strange.”
    Reggie nodded matter-of-factly. “It’th a lithp.”
    The boy giggled. “What’s a lithp?”
    Jamie frowned at him. “A lisp. That means he doesn’t pronounce the letter ‘s’ But bigger men than you have learned not to make sport of this gentleman’s way with words. There’s nothing wrong with the way he uses his fists, you see.”
    The boy’s eyes grew round. “Oh, are you a boxer, sir?” he asked Reg with dawning respect.
    Reggie grinned. “I’ve thtepped into the ring a few timeth,” he said.
    â€œHe has a punishing right, that I can tell you,” Jamie added, rubbing his jaw for emphasis.
    â€œCan you show us how to box?” the twin called Teddy asked eagerly.
    Evalyn, who had been standing with Mrs. Noakes and watching the proceedings with amused interest, felt it was time to step forward. “Not here, I’m afraid. But these two gentlemen have come upstairs purposely to show you some wonderful toy soldiers and to tell you about the battles their uniforms represent. Isn’t that kind of them?”
    â€œTell them what ?” Reggie asked with an air of a man who had been unwittingly trapped. He met Jamie’s pleading look with a grimace, and then shrugged. “Oh, very well. Go ahead and find the thilly thingth. We haven’t anything better to do.”
    Lord Gyllford, when he chanced to look into the nursery an hour later, was startled to find a number of his guests gathered there. A table had been set up in the middle of the room, and lined up upon it were several dozen little painted toy soldiers. On the far side of the table, Reggie and Jamie were acting out the Battle of Crécy. On the near side sat Evalyn, Clarissa, Martha and Marianne, and the twins, watching the display in rapt fascination. And in her rocker, contentedly knitting, sat Mrs. Noakes. His lordship listened for a moment, smiling over the liberties his son and Reggie were taking with history, then tiptoed stealthily away.
    By the time the Battle of Blenheim had been won, the clouds had lifted and the day had brightened considerably. After a late luncheon, Jamie reminded Reg of his promise to ride out in the curricle. Reggie demurred. “Three will be a crush,” he said.
    â€œRubbish. Marianne will take only a small space. I won’t have you backing out now.”
    Marianne, positively glowing at the thought of two escorts, was quite ready. Her pelisse was serviceable rather than becoming, but her bonnet, with its high poke and bright red bow captivatingly tied under her left ear, more than made up for it. Jamie helped her up and tucked a blanket around her legs, the two friends climbed up and took their places on either side of her, and they set off.
    Their destination was the nearby town of Ashwater, about ten miles to the northwest. Jamie chatted happily about the points of interest along the way—the neat cottage belonging to the bailiff of the Gyllford estates, the home woods where, in season, the quail and pheasant were plentiful, and the notorious “hanging tree”