He clambered slowly on to her lap and smiled. Lately her brusque voice often had something soft in it when she addressed her only child.
“Are you fond of your ma?” she asked caressingly.
“Yes.”
“Kiss me, then.”
He flung his little arms round her neck.
“Come, give me a kiss!”
Still with the same listless little smile he kissed her.
“Ma is never naughty to you, is she?” asked Betsy.
“No.”
“Will you stop with ma like that?”