“If he show signs of drowsiness, please let him go to sleep.”
Emma Hartroff bowed an answer, and strode over to Noll’s bed; she nodded to the others, who made way for her, and taking her straddling stand near him, she surveyed the boy:
“You do look pretty sick, on my word, Noll,” said she; and added pathetically: “I wish I could do something for you—I never know what to do with kids; but——”
“I say, Emma,” said Noll—“you ain’t going to a children’s party, are you?”
Emma Hartroff raised eyebrows of inquiry:
“N-no, Noll!”
He signed to her to sit down beside him.
“Then don’t play the snivelling mother,” said he—“it ain’t your size. Come and flirt with me—you may hold my hand.”
Emma Hartroff laughed good-naturedly, and sitting down on the bed beside the boy, she took his hand:
“Noll, you are very old,” she said—and she blew a breath: “Phooh! you are high up.”