“She is not allowed to play with the children in Our Square.”
Carlo pondered this. A theory born of temporary local conditions occurred to him. “Has she got measles?”
This was an easy way out. To enlighten Carlo as to the reasons why the descendant of all the Varicks was not permitted to take part in the degenerated social activities of Our Square, would be to undermine my carefully instilled doctrine of the blessings of democracy where all are free and equal. Therefore with mendacious, though worthy, intent I answered:—
“Not measles, exactly.”
“Oh!” said Carlo. “She must get lonesome.”
“Doubtless.”
The cheery singing had ceased now, and the child was busy with some other concern. Carlo's sharper vision identified it.
“She's setting a tea-table.”
“Is she?”
“And nobody will come to tea at it, will they?”