“And we have been to church, and come home to dinner,” she said, as she drew off her little white gloves. George watched her with ironical amusement.
“Hello!” said Meg, glancing at the opened letter which lay near his elbow. “Who is that from?”
He glanced round, having forgotten it. He took the envelope, doubled it and pushed it in his waistcoat pocket.
“It’s from William Housley,” he replied.
“Oh! And what has he to say?” she asked.
George turned his dark eyes at her.
“Nothing!” he said.
“Hm-Hm!” sneered Meg. “Funny letter, about nothing!”
“I suppose,” said the child, with her insolent, high-pitched superiority, “It’s some money that he doesn’t want us to know about.”
“That’s about it!” said Meg, giving a small laugh at the child’s perspicuity.