"Go on out of here!" commanded Mr. De Jarnette, pausing in his strides across the room with Philip in his arms. And Mammy Cely retired, greatly pleased with the turn affairs were taking.
At the sound of the closing door, Philip broke out into renewed lamentations. His only friend was gone.
"Philip! Stop your crying! Stop, I say!"
In his desperation Mr. De Jarnette spoke far more sternly than he felt. Philip stopped in sheer astonishment. But his mouth and chin puckered themselves up in that most pitiful of all things—a child's attempts at self control.
"I isn't been use—to—scolding," he said, reproachfully.
"I don't want to scold you," Mr. De Jarnette hastened to say, for there were signs of another inundation. "You are going to be a good little boy now and—"
"Is it bad to want my mama?" asked Philip.
"No, but it is foolish to keep on asking for what you can't have."
"Why can't I have my mama?"
"Because she's not here."