There was an expectant pause, but no answer from the little beggar buried beneath the bed-clothes.
Granny looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Well, Chris, we have no time to waste with naughty little boys," I said, "so we are going downstairs. But I am surprised that you should treat your Granny so; I thought you loved her."
There was still no reply, and we turned to go.
But ere we reached the door the shamefaced but slightly defiant little beggar cried out:
"I do love my Granny!"
At the sound she turned back with a radiant smile, and saw with delight two little arms stretched out to her appealingly, and two large tears trickling down a penitent little face.
"There, there! we will say no more," she exclaimed, forgivingly; "for you are sorry, my pet, are you not?"
"Very, very sorry," said the little beggar with contrition; "and very hot, dreffully hot; and I won't ask the nasty doctor nothing ever again."
"Not the 'nasty' doctor; the nice, kind doctor who has made little Chris well again," she corrected gently. "And you are going to be a good little boy now, darling?"