She asked William to her birthday tea-party. To William this was the climax of a long chain of insults.
“But I don’t want to go to tea with her,” he said in dismay.
“But she wants you, darling,” said Mrs. Brown. “I expect she liked your photograph.”
“I’m not going,” said William testily, “if they’re all going to be laughing at my photograph all the time. I’m jus’ sick of people laughing at my photograph.”
“Of course they won’t, dear,” said Mrs. Brown. “It’s a very nice photograph. You look a bit—depressed in it, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s not funny,” he said indignantly.
“Of course not, dear. You’ll behave nicely, won’t you?”
“I’ll behave ordinary,” he said coldly, “but I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go ’cause—’cause—’cause——” he sought silently for a reason that might appeal to a grown-up mind, then, with a brilliant inspiration, “’cause I don’t want my best clothes to get all wore out.”
“I don’t think they will, dear,” she said; “don’t worry about that.”
William dejectedly promised not to.