'I'm not,' said Denis. 'It's not that.'
'What is it, then?' said Nettie. 'It's such a pity you don't like it, when Granny's planned it so to please us. We should seem pleased, Denis, for you know Granny is rather sad. Last Christmas she was too sad to have anybody, for poor old uncle had died, you know. And it's so good of her to have us all this Christmas. Mother says Granny's only pleasure is to make other people happy.'
'I do love Granny,' said Denis.
'Well then, don't you think you should try to be pleased with what she's planned for us—with your nice little room?'
'I are pleased with my room,' replied Denis. 'I like it werry much.'
Nettie stared at him as if she thought he was losing his senses.
'Then what do you mean?' she asked.
Denis looked round. They were still in the picture gallery. He pulled Nettie on, and when they were in the passage on to which at this end the gallery opened, he shut the door and drew his sister into a corner.
'Nettie,' he said, 'you won't never tell, will you?'
'No,' said Nettie, rather rashly.