“No,” stoutly said the little boy; “there’s nothing the matter, and mother must not know.”
“Take my word for it,” said cook, “that child have a been treated shameful by those great nasty brutes of big boys.”
And when Armine, too cold to sit anywhere but by the only fire in the house, returned with a book and begged humbly for leave to warm himself, he was installed on nurse’s footstool, in front of a huge fire, and hot tea and “lardy-cake” tendered for his refreshment, while the maids by turns pitied and questioned him.
“Have you had a haccident, sir,” asked cook.
“No,” he wearily said.
“Have any one been doing anything to you, then?” And as he did not answer she continued: “You need not think to blind me, sir; I sees it as if it was in print. Them big boys have been a-misusing of you.”
“Now, cook, you ain’t to say a word to my mother,” cried Armine, vehemently. “Promise me.”
“If you’ll tell me all about it, sir,” said cook, coaxingly.
“No,” he answered, “I promised!” And he buried his head in nurse’s lap.
“I calls that a shame,” put in Emma; “but you could tell we, Master Armine. It ain’t like telling your ma nor your master.”