I had got awfully nervous when he first began, I mean about Felix; you
see Fee hadn't given me back my promise not to speak of his attack when
papa was so ill, so I couldn't have told Phil, and I shouldn't have
known what to say. Oh, that promise! that _miserable_ promise! if only I
had _never_ made it!
Well, as I said, I was thankful I didn't have to answer Phil; but when
he acted so queerly, I didn't like that either, and jumping out of bed,
I went at him, and just talked and coaxed and pulled at him, until at
last I got him to get up and undress and go to bed.
* * * * *
Phil was as cross as a bear the next morning; he said he had a headache,
and didn't get up until late. He lay in bed with his face to the wall,
and just snapped up everybody that spoke to him; when I took him up some
tea and toast,--that was all he'd take,--he turned on me. "I suppose
you've told them about last night," he said sharply, "and you've all had
a grand pow-wow over me!"
"Indeed, I _haven't_" I answered; "I haven't said one single word about
it to anybody; we've got other things to talk of, I can tell you,
besides your being such a sleepy-head.
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