“Of course not. I know that!” said Pen with dignity. She added in persuasive tones: “Shall I come with you when you go to meet the stammering-man?”
“No,” answered Sir Richard, not mincing matters.
“I thought you would say that. I wish I were really a man.”
“I still should not take you with me.”
“Then you would be very selfish, and disagreeable, and altogether abominable!” declared Pen roundly.
“I think I am,” reflected Sir Richard, recalling his sister’s homily.
The large eyes softened instantly, and as they scanned Sir Richard’s face a slight flush mounted to Pen’s cheeks. She bent over her plate again, saying in a gruff little voice: “No, you are not. You are very kind, and obliging, and I am sorry I teased you.”
Sir Richard looked at her. He seemed to be about to speak, but she forestalled him, adding buoyantly: “And when I tell Piers how well you have looked after me, he will be most grateful to you, I assure you.”
“Will he?” said Sir Richard, at his dryest. “I am afraid I was forgetting Piers.”