He flushed a little, admitting that he was. "And what then?"
"Tony, you—are—not—to—go."
"Oh, indeed! And pray, madam, who are you, to give me orders—me, that was dux of my school when you were in your cradle?"
"I am your mother, sir. It is a mother's business to give orders, and a son's to obey them. And I say you are not to go to Wandooyamba."
"If a mother is to issue commands of that sort, and in that tone of voice, the least she can do is to give her reasons for them."
"The reason is that Mary has company up there—people—a person—a person that I don't choose you to associate with."
"And who may that person be? A he or a she?"
"You know quite well, so don't pretend you don't."
"I know nothing," said Tony mendaciously, "and am most anxious for information. I cannot imagine Mary associating with anybody who isn't fit to associate with me. But perhaps it is I who am not fit? Who's the almighty swell that I'm not good enough for?"
"No swell at all—quite the contrary. It's that tea-room girl—oh, Tony, I believe you knew all the time, only you like to put that mask on, because you know how I hate to see you look at me like a wooden image! It's that Liddon girl, that she made such an absurd fuss about. She wasn't well, and Mary took her to Wandooyamba to recruit, and she's there now."