He laid himself close against his mother's breast, and drew up his knees, and Clara held his body in her arms, and whispered to him.
"Amy 'udn't play with me," he murmured.
"Wouldn't she? Naughty Amy!"
"Mammy tired too," he glanced upwards at his mother's eyes in sympathy.
And immediately he was asleep. Clara kissed him, bending her head down and with difficulty reaching his cheek with her lips.
Auntie Hamps enquired fondly:
"What does he mean--'mother tired too'?"
"Well," said Clara, "the fact is some of 'em were so excited they stopped my afternoon sleep this afternoon. I always do have my nap, you know,"--she looked at Hilda. "In here! When this door's closed they know mother mustn't be disturbed. Only this afternoon Lucy or Amy--I don't know which, and I didn't enquire too closely--forgot.... He's remembered it, the little Turk."
"Is he asleep?" Hilda demanded in a low voice.
"Fast. He's been like that lately. He'll play a bit, and then he'll stop, and say he's tired, and sometimes cry, and he'll come to me and be asleep in two jiffs. I think he's been a bit run down. He said he had toothache yesterday. It was nothing but a little cold; they've all had colds; but I wrapped his face up to please him. He looked so sweet in his bandage, I assure you I didn't want to take it off again. No, I didn't.... I wonder why Amy wouldn't play with him? She's such a splendid playmate--when she likes. Full of imagination! Simply full of it!"