Isel went on with her pudding, and offered no further remark.
“Well, I suppose I’d better be going,” said Anania—and sat still.
Nobody contradicted her, but she made no effort to go, until Osbert stopped at the half-door and looked in.
“Oh, you’re there, are you?” he said to his wife. “I don’t know whether you care particularly for those buttons you bought from Veka, but Selis has swallowed two, and—”
“Those buttons! Graven silver, as I’m a living woman! I’ll shake him while I can stand over him! And only one blessed dozen I had of them, and the price she charged me—The little scoundrel! Couldn’t he have swallowed the common leaden ones?”
“Weren’t so attractive, probably,” said Osbert, as Anania hurried away, without any leave-taking, to bestow on her son and heir, aged six, the shaking she had promised.
“But de little child, he shall be sick!” said Agnes, looking up from her work with compassionate eyes.
“Oh, I dare say it won’t hurt him much,” replied Osbert coolly, “and perhaps it will teach him not to meddle. I wish it might teach his mother to stay at home and look after him, but I’m afraid that’s hopeless. Good morrow!”
Little Selis seemed no worse for his feast of buttons, beyond a fit of violent indigestion, which achieved the wonderful feat of keeping Anania at home for nearly a week.
“You’ve had a nice quiet time, Aunt Isel,” said Stephen. “Shall I see if I can persuade Selis to take the rest of the dozen?”