Lettice had hardly finished reading the letter, when Keith rushed in. He had been kept at home for a slight toothache, which vanished so soon as school was given up: and he wanted Lettice in the playroom.
"Come! Come along," he cried, clinging round her waist, regardless of the fact that Theodosia was present. Lettice tried in vain to loosen his grasp. "It's no good; you can't make me," he cried. "I mean to have all I can of you—every day—and there's lots of things for you to do. You don't mean to be long away, do you? I wish you wouldn't! When is it to be?"
"On Friday."
"Oh!" The boy gave vent to a kind of indignant howl.
"Pray stop that noise!" ordered Theodosia. "You make yourself quite ridiculous. The sooner Lettice leaves, the better, if you behave in this absurd way.'
"It isn't absurd. I wouldn't care if everybody else went. I only want Lettice. She's never cross."
"Hush," whispered Lettice.
"But I don't mean to hush: because I hate to lose you. You are the dearest old thing: and I shall be all alone. Come along to the playroom, do! I want you to myself."
Lettice yielded, in fear of worse to follow: and she really did not dare to look towards Theodosia. The boy dragged her upstairs, clinging all the way to her waist and when the playroom was reached, he flung himself upon her afresh with boisterous affection.
"I say; what makes you do such a stupid thing? Why can't you stay at home?"