a herself, of the child's fearful
paroxysms of rage and had rather scoffed at it--to her. But at this
moment he was far nearer crying, very near it, indeed, to be strictly
truthful. He was really concerned for Patricia, and also he was a
little--unnecessarily--ashamed of his own collapse under the sudden
attack. Probably she thought it worse than it was. He walked slowly
down the grass path between the yew hedges and picked up the whip as
he went. Patricia was not on the tennis court nor in the summer-house,
nor in the rose-garden, so he turned his steps to the wilderness, as
the rough wooded slopes on the northern side of the garden were
called. He knew her favourite spots here and presently came on her
huddled up on an old moss-grown stone seat, her head in her arms. She
was quite still, she was not even crying, and Christopher felt a
little frightened. What if she were still angry like that? However,
the chances were against it, so he went up and sat down by her.

"Patricia, don't be silly," he commanded. "What did you run off like
that for? You didn't hurt--not much," he added truthfully--he had
taken to being very exact about the truth of late.

"Go away," said Patricia. "I don't want you. I don't want anyone. You
don't understand."

"Well, someone's got to understand," persisted the boy in a
high-handed way. "You aren't going to be let get in tempers with me
and then sulk about it afterwards. Don't be silly. Sit up." Patricia's
golden hair lay about her like a veil. He pushed it aside and tried to
pull her hands away from her face, for he was getting really a little
frightened at her manner. Some instinct taught him that her misery was
as exaggerated and bad for her as her temper, and he was dimly afraid
of leaving her alone, as was the custom of her little world after one
of her outbreaks.

Patricia suddenly sat up. There were black rims round her great sad
eyes already and her face was red and white in patches from the
pressure of her hands.

"You said I hadn't hurt you," she gasped, gazing at the dull red mark
of which Christopher was already almost unaware.

"Does it show? What a beastly nuisance. I said it didn't hurt much,
Patricia. Not at all now. I'm sorry I was such a baby." He put his arm
round her and she leant her head against him too exhausted to care
whether he thought her a baby or not.

"It must be jolly exciting having a temper like that," he said,
thoughtfully. "It wouldn't be half so ba