"
After a moment, as she did not speak, he went on, "Poor old thing, why
did you poggle him so awfully, Bicky? You really _are_ a horrid girl,
you know."
"I didn't poggle him."
She did not turn, she did not smile, and the sombreness that was the
dominant expression of her face was strange to see in a girl of her age.
"Well----" Kingsmead's small countenance, so different from hers in its
look of palpitating interest and curiosity, suddenly flushed a deep and
a beautiful red. "I say, old girl," he broke out, "_are_ you going to?"
And she, silent and unresponsive as she was, could not avoid answering
him.
"Well, Tommy dear--I don't know, but I suppose I shall."
"I don't like him, poor thing, and I wish you--mustn't."
"That's exactly the word. I fear I must." Her eyes nearly closed as she
refused to frown. "This kind of thing can't go on for ever."
"You mean the mater. Well, look here, Bicky, she'll be better when
Carron is here--she always is."
"Oh, Tommy----"
"But she _is_. She obeys him rather, don't you think? I suppose because
he was a friend of father's. Is she really very bad to-day?"
"Yes."
"Well, why don't you ask him to tell her to chuck it? I say, dear old
thing, I wish I were nine years older!"
"If you were, I should be thirty-four!"
"I meant about the beastly money.
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