He bridled up. "What the little imp needs is a good paddlin'," he declared.
"Well, you have nothing to do with the disciplining of the child. That is my business."
"It's what she needs, all the same. The very idear of her bawlin' all the mornin' at the top of her lungs—"
"I did not at the top of my lungs," contradicted Gwendolyn. "I cried with my mouth."
"—So's the whole house can hear," continued Thomas; "and beatin' about the floor. It's clear shameful, I say, and enough to give a sensitive person the nerves. As I remarked to Jane only—-"
"You remark too many things to Jane," interposed the governess, curtly.
Now he sobered. "I hope you ain't displeased with me," he ventured.
"Ain't displeased?" repeated Miss Royle, more than ever fretful. "Oh, Thomas, do stop murdering the King's English!"
At that Gwendolyn sat up, shook back her hair, and raised a startled face to the row of toys in the glass-fronted case. Murdering the King's English! Had he dared to harm her soldier with the scarlet coat?
"I was urgin' your betterin', too, Miss Royle," reminded Thomas, gently. "I says to Jane, I says—"