His exclamation was called forth by an apparently slight cause. Connie wore a white frock; to the knees of it adhered a long strip of fawn-coloured wool.
'You were sitting in the drawing-room devoured by curiosity?' he asked reflectively.
'Just devoured, papa,' repeated Connie gaily.
Mr. Fricker took hold of her ear lightly and began to walk her towards his study.
'Odd!' he said gently. 'Because the drawing-room's upholstered in red, isn't it?'
'Well, of course.' Connie laughed rather uneasily.
'And, so far as I know, the only fawn-coloured wool mat in the house is just outside my study door.'
'What do you mean, papa?' Connie was startled, and tried to jump away; Mr. Fricker's firm hold on her ear made it plain that she would succeed only at an impossible sacrifice.
'And that's the precise colour of that piece of wool clinging to your frock. Look!' They were on the mat now; the study door was open, and there was ample light for Connie to make the suggested comparison. 'Look!' urged Fricker, smiling and pinching his daughter's ear with increasing force. 'Look, Connie, look!'