Not that it need seem like a confession at all, for he had only to tell her that he had found a parcel in his greatcoat-pocket which was not his, and which must have been put there by some one in mistake. If he ran into his bedroom for a moment, and took the parcel from its hiding-place and put it back in his coat-pocket, he need not tell her that he had intended to keep it, and had hidden it on the top of the wardrobe, and in so doing had tipped over the chair he was standing on and overturned the ewer.
For five long minutes he stood at the top of the stairs debating with himself. He even went the length of going into his room with the half-formed intention in his mind of getting down the parcel; but Mary the housemaid was in possession, and she spoke to him rather tartly.
‘Now, Master Vivian,’ she began, ‘be a good boy, and don’t go messing all over the place again just when I’ve got it all cleaned up.’
Colouring at the sharp words, and at the sight of the dark, wet patch on the carpet, Vivian drew back and went into the schoolroom.
There every one was busy, and took little notice of him. Ralph and Ronald were curled up in two basket-chairs by the fire, deep in books, while Isobel was writing a letter, and Claude was playing happily on the floor with his man-of-war.
‘Come into the bathroom and see how well she sails,’ he cried; but Vivian was in no mood to attend to him. The conflicting voices were too strong in his heart, and he went out and wandered restlessly downstairs again.
Aunt Dora had finished her business with the cook, and was now seated at her desk in the study, making out lists for the stores. Looking up, she caught sight of her little nephew’s white, anxious face.
‘Do you feel sick, dearie?’ she asked kindly, laying down her pen. ‘A bump like that is a nasty thing, and if you like you can lie down for a while. Come, and I will tuck you up on the couch, and we will not let any of the others in to make a noise until lunch-time.’