"Shall I tell you?—Let me tell you!" urged his sister.
"If you like," he replied magnanimously.
"Canare!"
"I'm sure it's spelt with a y," he said, as if he weren't quite certain in spite of his words.
They argued who should score the mark, and settled the point by counting it a draw. She followed it up with a Fish, which was s, two between, and an l, which puzzled Cyril until he found, of course, that it was "soul."
Believing he had lost again, he allowed his interest in the game to flag, and still restless, he ran to the window.
"Hooray! it's fine now," he cried. "Come along, we don't want hats!"
"Ought we to go, do you think, Cyril, without asking?"
"I'm not going to ask, not if I know it. We would be sure to be 'don't'-ed. I'm going out. It's so stuffy here. You can do as you like."
"If you go, I shall go too," she replied quickly, following him and taking his hand. He didn't quite like that, but he felt, as she was "only a woman," he would let her.