Miss Tripp valiantly plucked up a wan smile.
"I am perfectly well," she declared; "but, Betty dear, could you give me a cup of tea? I was so—busy and—hurried to-day that I forgot all about my luncheon, and I just this minute realised it."
Elizabeth hurried into the kitchen on hospitable cares intent and Evelyn sank wearily into a chair. Her head was swimming with weariness and the lack of food; cold, discouraged drops crowded her blue eyes.
Richard quietly absorbing bread and milk from a gay china bowl gazed at her with a round speculative stare.
"Cwyin'?" he observed in a bird-like voice.
"Cwyin'?" he observed in a bird-like voice
"No, dear," denied Miss Tripp, winking resolutely. "What made you think of such a thing, precious?"
"'Cause it's—it's naughty to cwy."