Boo twitched his hand to remind him of the ultimate object of their mission.
Mrs. Massarene had never more cruelly felt how utterly she was “nobody” at her first Drawing-room, than she felt it now under the merciless eyes of these chicks.
Boo pulled Jack’s sleeve. “She won’t give us nothin’ else if ’oo tease her,” she whispered in his rosy ear.
Jack shook her off. “P’r’aps we’re rude,” he said remorsefully to his victim. “We’s sorry if we’ve vexed ’oo.”
“And does ’oo want the little box mammy gived back to ’oo?” said Boo desperately, perceiving that her brother would never attack this main question.
Over the plain broad flat face of the poor plebian there passed a gleam of intelligence, and a shadow of disappointment. It was only for sake of the golden box that these little angels had smilingly blocked her road!
She brought out the bonbonnière at once from her pocket. “Pray take it and keep it, my little lady,” she said to Boo, who required no second bidding; and after a moment’s hesitation Mrs. Massarene took out of her purse a new Napoleon. “Would you please, my lord,” she murmured, pushing the bright coin into Jack’s fingers.
Jack colored. He was tempted to take the money; he had spent his last money two days before, and the Napoleon would buy a little cannon for which his heart pined; a real cannon which would load with real little shells. But something indefinite in his mind shrank from taking a stranger’s money. He put his hands behind his back. “Thanks, very much,” he said resolutely, “but please, no; I’d rather not.”
She pressed it on him warmly, but he was obstinate. “No, thanks,” he said twice. “’Oo’s very kind,” he added courteously. “But I don’t know ’oo, and I’d rather not.” And he adhered to his refusal. He could not have put his sentiment into words, but he had a temper which his sister had not.
“’Oo’s very kind,” he said again, to soften his refusal.