'Oh, very well! If you're going to talk like that, you can go away,' said her brother, turning his back on her.
'No, no, Jack! I want to see what you are going to do with it. Please let me stay!'
'Then lock the door, and don't make a row over it.'
The boy was bending over the fire, and moulding the messy lump between his fingers as he spoke.
'What is all that stuff for?' pleaded Gussie, anxiously.
'It isn't stuff, I tell you. It's wax. Can't you see what I am doing?'
'It's so dark!' expostulated the child, peeping over his shoulder. Then she gave a cry of delight.
'Why, Jack you are making—I know!—a little man! It's just like the idol Uncle Joe brought Lilian from Burmah. Is it an idol, really? I thought it was naughty to make idols.'
The boy held the little figure up, and surveyed it with pride.
'Of course it's a man! What should I want to make an idol for?'