“Werry well,” sighed Jasper. “But I really did try.”
“I know you did,” his teacher repeated, and she pretended not to see the half-mocking glances that passed between her elder pupils.
So with half-suppressed sobs and deep-drawn breathings, Jasper set to work again, and Miss Greenall turned her attention to Leila and Christabel.
“Is your Mamma at home this morning?” she asked later, as she was putting on her cloak to leave. “I should like to see her for a moment.”
“No, she’s not. She won’t be in till luncheon,” Leila replied, none too politely. Miss Greenall hesitated. Then she said, lowering her voice, “Would you mind telling her that I don’t think Jasper is very well?”
“There’s nothing the matter with him except that he’s a spoilt baby,” said Chrissie. “We’re not petted if our lessons are difficult.”
Miss Greenall said nothing, but a glance, almost of appeal, to Leila, brought out a condescending reply.
“You really needn’t bother about him, but I will tell Mummy if I don’t forget,” and with this small amount of response Miss Greenall had to be content.
Leila did forget, however, and Chrissie did not try to remember, as might have been expected, and as both their mother and Aunt Margaret were very busy that day about the sale of some of the Fareham pictures, Jasper’s languor and aching head passed unnoticed.
But the next morning, while Mrs Fortescue was dressing, she was startled by an unexpected tap at the door, and Roland put in his head.