Daddy--what are we going to do ... about Mummy? I _do_ want her to know
... it was for her. But I _couldn't_ tell--what Joe said. Could you?"

Nevil shook his head.

"Then--what?"

"You leave it to me, Roy. I'll make things clear without repeating Joe's
rude remarks. She'd have been up before this; but _I_ had to see you
first--because of the whacking!" His eye twinkled. "She's longing to get
at your bruises----"

"Oh nev' mind my bruises. They're all right now."

"And beautiful to behold!" He lightly touched the lump on Roy's cheek.
"I'd let her dab them, though. Women love fussing over us when we're
hurt--especially if we've been fighting for them!"

"Yes--they do," Roy agreed gravely; and to his surprise, his father drew
him close and kissed his forehead.

* * * * *

His mother did not keep him waiting long. First the quick flutter of her
footsteps; then the door gently opened--and she flew to him, her sari
blowing out in beautiful curves. Then he was in her arms, gathered into
her silken softness and the faint scent of sandalwood; while her lips,
light as butterfly wings, caressed the bruise on his cheek.

"Oh, what a bad, wicked Sonling!" she murmured, gathering him close.