"I don't want you—you little beast!"
Sheila Pat gasped, and grew slowly red.
"You are very rude," she said with tremulous dignity.
"I don't care if I am! D'you think you're the queen or what? I don't want to speak to you. I can't bear you!"
He limped away to the other end of the room.
Sheila Pat sat very still and quiet for a while, then she rose and went after him.
"I think, perhaps, I wasn't very perlite," she said stiffly.
"Come and see my rabbit," he rejoined.
Sheila Pat went with alacrity; she was reflecting satisfiedly that the goody-goo little boy of her imaginings would never have called her "a little beast." Still she was not completely reassured. Together they examined the rabbit, and the Atom told him all about her Pearl, and nothing "goody-gooish" appeared about him. But as they went back to the house for tea, she sounded him cautiously.
"Are you fond of cricket?" keeping a stern eye on his face while she awaited his answer.