&quot;Dinah, do hurry up!&quot;<br />A small boy with close-cropped brown head and dark eager eyes was drumming with his fingers on the windowpane. He turned his head over his shoulder as he spoke, and his tone was impatient.<br />Dinah, or Diana as she was really called, lay flat on her chest by the schoolroom fire. Big sheets of paper were before her, and with a good deal of sucking of her pencil she was writing rapidly. She was very thin and pale; her nurse said she was wiry, and her fair hair was bobbed in the usual fashion.<br />&quot;How do you spell alarming, two l&#39;s and two m&#39;s?&quot; she asked, without raising her head.<br />&quot;Hurray! Here&#39;s the taxi! Such a lot of luggage! You&#39;re too late; you can&#39;t see it now.&quot;<br />Diana had dashed to the window. They were at the top of a high London house, in one of the quiet roads of South Kensington, but try as they could, they could neither see the cab nor its occupants now, and the