William knew the little girl.
Her name was Emmeline, and she went to the same school as William—and William detested her. William now allowed himself the slight satisfaction of putting out his tongue at her beneath his expanse of muffler.
But his heart sank as they surrounded him. They all surveyed him with the greatest interest. He looked about desperately once more for some way of escape, but his opportunity had gone. Like the psalmist’s enemies, they closed him in on every side. Nervously he pulled up his rug, spread out his muffler and crouched yet further down in his bath-chair.
“YOU REMEMBER MOTHER, DEAR UNCLE GEORGE, DON’T
YOU?” FREDERICA SCREAMED INTO THE MUFFLER.
WILLIAM MERELY GROWLED.
“You remember Mother, dear Uncle George, don’t you?” screamed Frederica into the muffler.
The dignified dame raised the lorgnettes and held out a majestic hand. William merely growled. He was beginning to find the growl effective. They all hastily took a step back.
“Sulking!” explained Frederica in her penetrating whisper. “Sulking! Just because I told him on the way here that if he willed to be well he would be well. It always annoyed him, but I must be true to my principles, mustn’t I?—even if it makes him sulk—even if he cuts me out of his will I must——”
THEY ALL SURVEYED THE OCCUPANT OF THE BATH-CHAIR
WITH GREAT INTEREST.