“No,” replied Mary, finding herself, rather to her surprise, already getting used to the wonderful power that had come to her, “no, it wasn’t only that, because, you see, I thought you would soon come back again, as you have sometimes flown off for a day or two, you know. No, it wasn’t only that. It was that he wouldn’t believe me, and I care for him far the most of all my cousins. I mean Michael.”
“Michael,” repeated Mr Coo, “is he the fat little red-haired boy in sailor suits? His hair is something the colour of yours, Mary.”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” said Mary, rather huffily. “That Michael! Of course not. That’s Fritz—stupid little thing. Michael isn’t fat. He’s tall and has proper dark hair, and he’s very, very brave. Fancy taking Fritz for Michael!”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr Coo, but though his tone was very polite it was rather stiff. “How were we to know, seeing we are not nasty tricky fairies, about your relations, unless you explain them?” Mary felt herself growing red.
“I didn’t say nasty tricky fairies,” she replied very meekly. “I think I said ‘unkind,’ but I didn’t mean you to hear, and it was only just when I was vexed. But I’m sure now that you are very kind, and I am so glad you have come back again that I wouldn’t for anything be rude.”
“All right,” said Mr Coo, “I am sure you did not intend to hurt our feelings. We couldn’t care for you if you were that sort of little girl. But please be so good as to tell us about Michael, for time is getting on.”
“Yes,” Mary agreed, “they will soon be calling me to tea. Well—it was this way. You know that I’ve known you—that we’ve known each other, though not so well as now.”
“No, till now it has just been a polite acquaintance, so to say. Good-morning and good-evening, and so on—on your part at least, Mary,” interrupted Mr Coo. But Mrs Coo gave him a tiny poke with one of her feet—and Mary went on—
“Now that we can talk to each other it seems quite different, of course. All the same I have watched you ever since I came to live in this house—but somehow I’ve never spoken about you to any one. I didn’t want all the children to come bothering to my window, you see, and the nurseries all look to the front; I wanted to keep you to myself. But when Michael came home—he’s a sailor already, that’s why he’s so very brave—I thought I’d tell him about you—I wanted to tell somebody, you see, and—”
A bell sounded—a voice at the door—