Mr. Wilcox was much annoyed. “I can’t congratulate you on your protégés,” he remarked.
“Hen, don’t go. You do love me, dear, don’t you?”
“Bless us, what a person!” sighed Margaret, gathering up her skirts.
Jacky pointed with her cake. “You’re a nice boy, you are.” She yawned. “There now, I love you.”
“Henry, I am awfully sorry.”
“And pray why?” he asked, and looked at her so sternly that she feared he was ill. He seemed more scandalized than the facts demanded.
“To have brought this down on you.”
“Pray don’t apologize.”
The voice continued.
“Why does she call you ‘Hen’?” said Margaret innocently. “Has she ever seen you before?”