“What’s the matter?” Rose demanded ungraciously. She would not even look at Miss Wade, and she kept one hand on Cecil’s forehead, stroking back his thick, soft hair.
“Oh, I hope nothing’s the matter,” Miss Wade declared with sudden, spurious brightness. “I’m sure Cecil will tell you himself that he’s only been talking nonsense.”
“I’m not talking nonsense——”
“If you mean that rubbish I heard as I came in, about elephants and tigers, it was nonsense, Ces, and you know it. You weren’t trying to make Miss Wade believe it was true, were you? You wouldn’t be so silly, a big boy like you.”
The appeal to Cecil’s vanity seemed to make him hesitate. At last he gave an uncertain little laugh, and said: “No, Mummie. I only said it for fun. It was just something I was inventing.”
Rose kissed him in sudden, passionate thankfulness.
“My precious! That’s a good boy!”
“It’s a pity, isn’t it, that Cecil should think it amusing to invent things that never happened,” said Miss Wade mildly, “especially as we know that he isn’t always quite as brave as he ought to be about telling the exact truth. But I’m glad he’s been straightforward this time.”
Rose did not think that she looked glad.
“If Cecil may go into the garden for a while, Mrs. Aviolet, I should be glad to speak to you.”