But there followed after him Alf with the rejected dainties.
“Go on,” he said, “she said you could; it’s awful nice, Clif.”
“I don’t want it,” said Clif.
“It’s got currants and peel in,” said the tempter.
Clif dare not look at it; cake was a great treat to him, and his mouth was melting for it.
“I don’t want it,” he repeated.
Then Alf’s patience gave way; he had waited a very long time, but human endurance would go no further. He said nothing, but Clif, just in front, heard his teeth crunching on the crisp melon, and was able to guess the exact moment the last crumb of cake disappeared.
[70]
]“Was it that sugary sort of melon?” he could not help asking with anxiety in his eyes.
“Y-yes,” admitted Alf unwillingly, and Clif sighed.
“I can spell platypus,” volunteered the younger lad, in haste to get away from unpleasant subjects. Then he suddenly gave a hop of joy. “Guess what,” he said; “I nearly forgot, and you don’t know, do you?”