“Aren’t you coming down to dinner, Master Aleck?”
“No, Jane; not to-day.”
“But it’s all over-done, my dear—been ready more than an hour. Do, do come, or it’ll be spoiled.”
“Go and tell uncle then. I’m not coming down.”
“But I have been, my dear, and he said I was to come and tell you. He isn’t coming down. Do make haste and finish and come down.”
“No, not to-day, Jane. I can’t come.”
“But what is the matter, dear? Is master in a temper because you fell off the cliff and cut your face?”
“I didn’t fall off the cliff and cut my face,” said Aleck.
“Then, whatever is the matter, my dear?”
“Well, if you must know, Jane, I’ve been fighting—like a blackguard, I suppose,” cried the boy, pettishly.