Although William kept his stern frown still fixed on the road and gave no sign of his feelings, the dulcet sympathy of Violet Elizabeth was balm to his wounded soul.
“Play gamth with me,” went on Violet Elizabeth soothingly.
William looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. After all, one must do something.
“What sort of games?” said William suspiciously transferring his stern frown from the road to Violet Elizabeth and, contrary to his usual custom, forbearing to mimic her lisp.
“Play houth, William,” said Violet Elizabeth eagerly. “Ith suth a nith game. You an’ me be married.”
“Red Indians an’ you a squaw?” said William with a gleam of interest.
“No,” said Violet Elizabeth with distaste, “not Red Indianth.”
“Pirates?” suggested William.
“Oh no, William,” said Violet Elizabeth. “They’re tho nathty. Juth a nordinary thort of married. You go to the offith and me go thopping and to matineeth and thee to the dinner and that sort of thing.”
William’s dignity revolted from the idea.