May stopped the child decisively. "Hush, Harold! You know I never allow you to repeat the tittle-tattle of the nursery. And I am shocked to hear that you listened to what was not intended for your ears. That is not like a gentleman. You know we agreed that you are to be a real gentleman when you grow up—that is, a man of honour."
"I didn't listen!" cried Wilfred eagerly.
"I am glad you did not."
"No, I didn't listen, Cousin May. I was in Cyril's room. Cyril gave me a long, long piece of string;—ever so long!"
May laughed. "Your virtue is not of a difficult kind, Master Willy! You never do any mischief that is quite out of your reach." Then, seeing that Harold looked still crest-fallen, she kissed his forehead, and said kindly, "And Harold will not listen again. He did not remember that it is dishonourable."
The child was silent, with his eyes cast down on his lesson-book, for a while. Then he raised them, and looking searchingly at May, said, "I say, Cousin May, I mean to marry you when I grow up."
"And so do I!" said Wilfred, determined not to be outdone.
"Very well. But I couldn't think of marrying any one who did not know his French verbs. So you had better learn that one at once."
Harold's naturally rather dull and heavy face grew suddenly bright; and he settled himself to his lesson with a little shrug, and a shake like a puppy. "No; you wouldn't marry any one who didn't know French, would you?" said he emphatically.
"And I know F'ench!" pleaded Wilfred.