"Tommy, will you come to see the horse guards with us?" she almost whispered.
He stared out of the window.
"Denis is comin', too. And we're goin' on an omnibus, and you and me will get front seats, and—and it's very windy," the soft little voice went patiently on, enumerating all the delights of the expedition. "Do come, Tommy, won't you?"
He drummed on the window pane with thin little fingers.
"I 'spect our hats will blow right off, and the horses and soljers are grand, and—and p'raps it will rain, too—and—and—and Mrs. Barclay says she would like you to go—"
Suddenly he turned on her, the brilliant colour leaping to his cheeks.
"You!" he cried stormily. "You! Why don't you sneer at me? Why don't you call me names? You!"
A little puzzled frown settled on her brows.
"I—don't—know why I don't," she said slowly.
"Go away! Go now! Go at once!" and before she could move he had burst into a perfect storm of tears. Sheila Pat backed across the room till she reached the opposite wall, and stood staring, wide eyed, at the shaking little figure in the window, at the fair head prone on the outstretched, despairing arms.