"On the grass, perhaps," says Joyce, miserably, looking round her everywhere, and even on her shoulder. "I don't feel him anywhere."
"Sometimes they stay quite a long time, and then they crawl!" says Tommy, the most horrible anticipation in his tone.
"Really, Tommy," cries his aunt, indignantly, "I do think you are the most abominable boy I ever met in my life. There, go away! I certainly shan't read another line to you—either now—or—ever!"
"What is the matter?" asks a voice at this moment, that sounds close to her elbow. She turns round with a start.
"It is you, Felix!" says she, coloring warmly. "Oh—oh, it's nothing. Only Tommy. And he said I had an earwig on me. And I was just a little unnerved, you know."
"And no wonder," says her lover, with delightful sympathy. "I can't bear that sort of wild animal myself. Tommy, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. When you saw him why didn't you rise up and slay the destroyer of your aunt's peace? There; run away into the hall. You will find on one of the tables a box of chocolate. I told Mabel it was there; perhaps she——"
Like an arrow from the bow, Tommy departs.
"He has evidently his doubts of Mabel," says Joyce, laughing rather nervously. She is still a little shy with Felix. "He doesn't trust her."
"No." He has seated himself and now draws her down beside him. "You were reading?" he says.
"Yes."