The doctor leaned forward and took the little boy’s hand, speaking very gently.
“Never mind, little fellow. You know we all do wrong and foolish things sometimes, and then the only way out is to tell the truth and try and undo the mischief. I think I understand how it happened. You thought it would be nice to have the box to play tunes whenever you wanted to, and so you slipped it out of sight and afterwards you were afraid of being seen putting it back. Wasn’t it something like that?”
Rose’s ardent eyes flashed gratitude at him; but her mother-in-law seemed to be more distressed than ever.
“It’s very kind of you—but please don’t make excuses for him. He ought to be made to understand how naughty he’s been. Cecil, are you, or are you not, sorry for having deliberately acted like a thief?”
“I didn’t, Grandmama.”
“Didn’t what?” Her voice had risen slightly.
“Didn’t take the little music-box.”
The little boy’s face was so innocent, his voice so assured, that Lucian glanced at him sharply. He had been staring straight up at Lady Aviolet with his great brown eyes whilst he spoke, but immediately afterwards he dropped them.
The doctor, trained to observation, sighed involuntarily.
A sound like a gasp echoed him, from Lady Aviolet.