"You said uncle. You weren't quite right. That's my father," she said again.
Burnett Minor's life was full of miracles. A miracle more or less made no difference. Her eyes sparkled. She alone of the girls believed.
"Not really?" she gasped.
Louie nodded.
"Qu'est c'qu'elle dit?" Pigou cried excitedly, somewhere at the back.
"Pooh, she didn't—she only nodded—nodding isn't a lie," a casuist scoffed.
"Stupid, don't you see she's joking?"
But Burnett Minor was watching Louie—only to be quite sure.
"Honour?" she cried. "Spit your death?"
"Honour."