Then Annabel’s lips trembled; but no tears fell.
“Does Tommy know?” she asked, and when she was told that he did not she went out of the room and stood at the top of the stairs. Bending forward, her hands resting on her knees, she peered down the steep staircase.
“Tommy,” she called, “Tommy Tregennis,” but there was no response.
“Tommy Tregennis, come here!” The call was louder this time.
“Tommy, Miss Margaret and me wants you.”
At this Tommy’s head was poked round the kitchen door.
All Annabel’s usual diffidence in Tommy’s company had vanished.
“Come here, Tommy!” she insisted, and Tommy, impelled by some new quality in her, walked slowly up the stairs.
“Tommy,” said Annabel, rather hesitatingly, but looking straight into his eyes; “Tommy, I rooted up your garden.”
For the second time that day Tommy hit her quite hard.