"Of course yes, though, you mean!"

"Not at all. It's been most kind of your mother and father and
you."

"Do you know," she said, "you've never once looked at me for more
than a second at a time the whole evening? And it seemed to me I
looked rather nice to-night, too!"

"You always do," he murmured.

"I don't see how you know," she returned; and then stepping
closer to him, spoke with gentle solicitude: "Tell me: you're
really feeling wretchedly, aren't you? I know you've got a
fearful headache, or something. Tell me!"

"Not at all."

"You are ill--I'm sure of it."

"Not at all."

"On your word?"

"I'm really quite all right."

"But if you are----" she began; and then, looking at him with a
desperate sweetness, as if this were her last resource to rouse
him, "What's the matter, little boy?" she said with lisping
tenderness. "Tell auntie!"