Helen’s face rippled over with smiles, and the boy’s brightened, and he too smiled in a way that made him look frank, handsome, and singularly attractive.
“Oh, I say, you are pretty,” he said. “Ten times as pretty as Miss Hippetts on Sundays.”
“Hah! yes. Never mind about Miss Hippetts. And look here, my man, Mr Hippetts said that you were anything but a good boy, and your schoolmaster said the same.”
“Yes; everybody knows that I am a reg’lar bad boy. The worst boy in the whole school.”
Helen Grayson’s face contracted.
“Oh, you are, are you!” said the doctor drily.
“Yes, Mr Sibery told everybody so.”
“Well, then, now, sir, you will have to be a very good boy.”
“All right, sir.”
“And behave yourself very nicely.”