But Rupy the flame-headed, spewing some more just-discovered rose-hip fuzz out his mouth through a gap made by two missing incisors, here spread himself across the lap-board and asked a question. Asked it as one asked a question he long has wanted to know. Asked it in faith with a demanding eye, as one who means to bite into more fruits in life than mere rose-hips and reveal their hearts, or know the reason.
"Why's it A?"
And the girl-teacher, this Selina, looked back at him. Why was it A, indeed? Rupy of this decade was asking as Juliette of the last decade had done. And Juliette had had no answer.
William spoke up out of what one gathered was the gloom of his own experience, addressing himself to Rupy. "She'll tell you it's because God says so. Eve'ybody tells you that."
Rupy flung himself back off the lap-board against his chair with the air of one who had her. "Why's it A?" he repeated.
Henry, small, lean, knowing, never had remitted his shrewd gaze fixed appraisingly upon her. Suddenly now he relaxed and his manner changed from challenging to protective, from aggressive to benignant. "Aw, gwan an' say it out. Don't you be afraid. You say what you wanter say about why it's A."
For Henry had read her and discovered her. She didn't know why it was A!
And Selina drawing enlightenment from Henry upon the wise path to tread, said what she wanted to say, just as he bade her do.
"I don't know why it's A. The first day I ever went to school we asked why it was A, but nobody told us."
"An' you don't know yet?" from William with the triumph of the certain if gloomy prognostigator.