Enter Patsie tumultuously, embarrassed by several lengths of the Commissioner’s pet mahseer-rod. “Tum along, Toby! Zere’s a chu-chu lizard in ze chick, and I’ve told Chimo to watch him till we turn. If we poke him wiz zis his tail will go wiggle-wiggle and fall off. Tum along! I can’t weach.”
“I’m comin’,” said His Majesty the King, climbing down from the Commissioner’s wife’s knee after a hasty kiss.
Two minutes later, the chu-chu lizard’s tail was wriggling on the matting of the veranda, and the children were gravely poking it with splinters from the chick, to urge its exhausted vitality into “just one wiggle more, ’cause it doesn’t hurt chu-chu.”
The Commissioner’s wife stood in the doorway and watched:—“Poor little mite! A blue sash ... and my own precious Patsie! I wonder if the best of us, or we who love them best, ever understand what goes on in their topsy-turvy little heads.”
A big tear splashed on the Commissioner’s wife’s wedding-ring, and she went indoors to devise a tea for the benefit of His Majesty the King.
“Their souls aren’t in their tummies at that age in this climate,” said the Commissioner’s wife, “but they are not far off. I wonder if I could make Mrs. Austell understand. Poor little fellow!”
With simple craft, the Commissioner’s wife called on Mrs. Austell and spoke long and lovingly about children; inquiring specially for His Majesty the King.
“He’s with his governess,” said Mrs. Austell, and the tone intimated that she was not interested.
The Commissioner’s wife, unskilled in the art of war, continued her questionings. “I don’t know,” said Mrs. Austell. “These things are left to Miss Biddums, and, of course, she does not ill-treat the child.”
The Commissioner’s wife left hastily. The last sentence jarred upon her nerves. “Doesn’t ill-treat the child! As if that were all! I wonder what Tom would say if I only ‘didn’t ill-treat’ Patsie!”