Margot felt the quick contraction of the heart which she experienced
afresh at every sight of Edith's changed face, but next moment she
whistled softly in the familiar key, and saw the light flash back.
Edith sprang to the door, and appeared flushed and smiling.
"Margot, how sweet of you! I am glad! Have you had lunch?"
"No. Give me anything you have. I'm awfully late. Bread and jam will
do splendidly. Halloa, youngsters, how are you? We'll defer kisses, I
think, till you are past the sticky stage. I've been prowling about the
Park for the last two hours enjoying the spring breezes, and working out
problems, and suddenly discovered it was too late to go home."
She sank down on a seat by the table, shaking her head in response to an
anxious glance. "No, not my own affairs, dear; only Ron's! Can't the
boys run away now, and let us have a chat? I know you have had enough
of them by your face, and I've such a lot to say. Don't grumble, boys!
Be good, and you shall be happy, and your aunt will take you to the Zoo.
Yes, I promise! The very first afternoon that the sun shines; but
first I shall ask mother if you have deserved it by doing what you are
told."
"Run upstairs, dears, and wash, and put on your boots before Esther
comes," said Mrs Martin fondly; and the boys obeyed, with a lingering
obedience which was plainly due rather to bribery than training.
The elder of the two was a sturdy, plain-featured lad, uninteresting
except to the parental eye; the younger a beauty, a bewitching, plump,
curly-headed cherub of four years, with widely-opened grey eyes and a
Cupid's bow of a mouth. Margot let Jim pass by with a nod, but her hand
stretched out involuntarily to stroke Pat's cheek, and ruffle his curly
pow.
Edith smiled in sympathetic understanding, but even as she smiled she
turned her head over her shoulder to speak a parting word to the older
lad.
"Good-bye, darling! We'll have a lovely game after tea!" Then the door
shut, and she turned to her sister with a sigh.
"Poor Jim! everybody overlooks him to fuss over Pat, and it is hard
lines. Children feel these things much more than grown-up people
realise. I heard yells resounding from their bedroom one day last year,
and flew upstairs to see what was wrong. There was Pat on the floor,
with Jim kneeling on his chest, with his fingers twined in his hair,
which he was literally dragging out by the roots. He was put to bed for
being cruel to his little brother, but when I went to talk quietly to
him afterwards, he sobbed so pitifully, and said, `I only wanted some of
his curls to put on, to make people love me too!' Poor wee man! You
know what a silly way people have of saying, `Will you give me one of
your curls?' and poor Jim had grown tired of walking beside the pram,
and having no notice taken of him. I vowed that from that day if I
showed the least preference to either of the boys it should be to Jim.
The world will be kind to Pat; he will never need friends."