"Something to eat," repeated Elsa. "He had two eggs with his tea. He can't be hungry."
"No—o—But there were anchovy toasts at dinner—Harvey told him. And he's so fond of anchovy toasts. I think you'd better say he may, Elsa, because of mamma."
"Very well," the elder sister replied. "It's not right—it's always the way. But what are we to do?"
Vicky waited not to hear her misgivings, but flew off. She was well-drilled, poor little soul.
Her brother was waiting for her, midway between the school-room and dining-room doors.
"Well?" he said, moving towards the latter.
"Yes. Elsa says you may," replied the breathless little envoy.
"Elsa! What has she to do with it? I told you to ask mamma, not Elsa," he said roughly.
He stood leaning against the jamb of the door, his hands in his pockets, with a very cross look on his handsome face. But Victoria, devoted little sister though she was, was not to be put down by any cross looks when she knew she was in the right.
"Geoff," she said sturdily, "I'll just leave off doing messages or anything for you if you are so selfish. How could I go teasing mamma about anchovy toasts for you when she is so worried?"