Chrissie wriggled and Leila frowned.
“I’ll see about it,” said the former. “I won’t tell her to-day—it’s best not to bother her on Sunday, the only day Daddy’s at home.”
Leila murmured something, but Jasper did not hear what it was. Indeed, he did not listen, and his expression cleared a little.
“Not to-day or any day,” had been the elder sister’s whisper. “There’s no need ever to tell.”
And great temptation never to do so! For now, the indirect disregard of their father’s orders as to not passing by Peter’s Place had involved Leila as well as Christabel in confession, if such ever took place. “And I needn’t have been mixed up in it at all, except out of good-nature to you,” she said afterwards to Chrissie; “so if you tell, it’ll be the meanest thing you ever did.”
“Why were you so long, Japs?” they asked, rather wishing to change the subject. “Did the verger’s people make a fuss about giving it to you?”
“Oh no,” was his reply, “the minute the little boy’s mother sawed me, she gived it me. I told her it was a werry old book, though it was so pretty. It was lyin’ on the table where he was on the sofa, but he said I must wait till his mother came.”
“What do you mean?” said Leila impatiently. “Who was lying on the sofa?”
“The little boy—I said the little boy,” answered Jasper. “He’s been werry ill, though he’s almost kite better now. But his mother didn’t let me shake hands wif him—fear of disturbin’ him, she said. She wasn’t werry polite—not werry. She said, ‘Now, sir, you’d better be quick and go.’”
“I daresay she was busy,” said Chrissie carelessly, “but she didn’t need to say ‘be quick,’ for you didn’t want not to be quick.”