The boy started and looked ashamed.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Madelene, I do, indeed,” he said, “won’t you forgive me?”
He looked up at her—she was a little taller than he—with real distress in his dark eyes. He was a strikingly handsome boy, with his grandmother’s delicate features, though in his case sun-browned and stronger looking, and eyes which the old lady used to say confidentially to some of her friends, made her tremble for the mischief they might do in the future. Already in the present they were not to be resisted. Madelene laughed a little and held out her own hand, which Philip took eagerly.
“I am glad,” she said, “to hear from Aunt Anna, that your friend Bernard is coming next week to keep you in order till you go back to school.”
“Oh,” Ermine exclaimed, “is he coming? I’m not glad at all. I hate prigs.”
Rather to Madelene’s surprise Philip said nothing. “Is he a prig?” she asked.
Philip coloured a little.
“No,” he said, “of course he isn’t. Ask granny. He’s not a prig, but I’m cross.”
Lady Cheynes looked rather puzzled.
“What’s the matter, Phil?” she said. “You were pleased enough this morning about Bernard’s coming.”