Sophy spoke in a low aside, meant only for his ear.
"Now, Cecil; don't excite him, please. He doesn't sleep well when you worry him."
Chesney acted as though he had not heard her. He sat erect, then leaned forward, and with his great hands hanging loose between his knees, said in a firm tone: "Come here, Bobby."
The child did not stir. Then he took his thumb from his mouth.
"No," he said in a clear, distinct little voice. He put back his thumb and began sucking it vigorously, swinging one foot to and fro in a sort of accompaniment.
Sophy knew well this sign in Bobby. It meant flat rebellion and rising temper.
"Cecil...." she murmured. "Cecil...."
He took not the slightest notice of her.
"Charmingly you're brought up, ain't you ... you cheeky little brat," said he to his son, in a lazy sort of drawl. Then he barked it at him: "Come here to me when I tell you!"
Again Bobby removed his thumb, and again he said, "No," clearly and firmly.