Oh, Tommy--should you have come?"
"I have just left mother at Aunt Emily's," he answered, his voice
explaining plainly what his dignity forbade his putting into words.
So her mother knew!
"New clothes; also gloves; also something smelly and _very_ nice on your
hair!"
Brigit bent over and kissed him tenderly, her face very sweet with
affection. "Please elucidate, little brother. Has mother sent you?"
"No. She knows I have come, though."
"Some tea?"
"If you please."
So she lit the kettle and going to a cupboard produced two
enchanting-looking white jars. "Marmalade or cherry jam?"
"I think--neither, please," returned Kingsmead, with an effort. "I--am
not hungry."
It was all very mysterious, and Brigit, scanning the little boy's face,
saw that he was nervous as well as important; pale as well as elegant in
attire. So she made the tea and gave him a cup in silence.
After a long pause he cleared his throat and began. "Brigit, of course
I'm only a kid--and all that sort of thing."
"Yes, dear?"
"And you are grown up, and have a great deal more--well, experience than
I. And then you are very beautiful, and I am--not," he added with a
flicker of irrepressible mirth that was immediately quenched.
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