In spite of her ill-humour, Chrissie began to laugh. She was a child of very changeable moods.
“You must be so cold,” continued Jasper.
“I should rather think I was,” his sister agreed. “Frozen! But you see it can’t be helped. I’ve made a vow that I won’t put on my own stockings this morning, and I can’t break a vow.”
Jasper looked up at her with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.
“Bad vows is better broken nor kept,” he said.
Then Chrissie laughed again, and more heartily. It was a relief to her, for, to tell the truth, she was fast getting to a state in which if she had not laughed she would have burst into tears—a sad downfall to her pride and dignity.
“What awful grammar, Japs,” she said. “You really should know better at seven years old.”
But Jasper took her merriment quite pleasantly: indeed he was glad of it, and by this time he was down on his knees on the floor, softly stroking his sister’s cold feet.
“What are you after now?” she said sharply.
“I’se going to put on your stockin’s for you,” he replied, “and then you needn’t mind about vows, ’cept that you’d better not make any more, till it gets warmer, any way.”