"If you let him have them both occasionally he may discover that Tony has his points."
"They're both perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. Meg laughed and danced a two-step to the door.
"They're darlings that need a good deal of diplomatic managing, and if they don't get it they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down to the post-office directly with my Indian letters. Why not come with us for the walk?"
Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells and Mr. Withells enjoyed being consulted about Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a young man whose health, ruined by one bad station after another, had forced him to give up his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating treatments to Hugo, who received his advice with respectful gratitude, and they arranged to drive again together on Saturday, which was next day but one.
Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for
a quiet hour before dinner and lit a cigar. He had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and rather somnolent condition when his daughter entered carrying a large Teddy-bear, two dolls, a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden tea-set. She dropped several of these articles just inside the door. "Come and help me pick up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to play wis loo, Daddie."
Hugo did not move. He was fond of little Fay; he admired her good looks and her splendid health, but he didn't in the least desire her society just then.
"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" tone. "I think you'd better go and play in the nursery with Tony."
"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; loo mus' play wis me. Or"—she added as a happy alternative—"loo can tell me sumfin instastin."