“What do you mean, and what are you doing here? I wish you’d tell me.”
Phil loved to talk better than almost anything else in the world, and he gladly plunged headlong into his tale. Bertie did not understand it all; but he understood enough to be immensely interested and to give Phil all the encouragement necessary to make him exceedingly diffuse and circumstantial. Only towards the close did Bertie’s face grow grave.
“But why don’t you go and tell them you’ve run away? Why does only Queenie know?”
“Oh, they know I’ve run away, only they don’t know where I am.”
“Why don’t you tell them?”
Phil explained his reason; but Bertie shook his head gravely.
“It looks as if you were afraid,” he said.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of being scolded or punished. Are you afraid?”
Phil’s face flushed.