e
Judy had shown her defection from Aunty Rosa already. And that lady
resented it bitterly. Black Sheep rose to leave the room.

"Come and say good night," said Aunty Rosa, offering a withered cheek.

"Huh!" said Black Sheep. "I never kiss you, and I'm not going to show
off. Tell that woman what I've done, and see what she says."

Black Sheep climbed into bed feeling that he had lost Heaven after a
glimpse through the gates. In half an hour "that woman" was bending
over him. Black Sheep flung up his right arm. It was n't fair to come
and hit him in the dark. Even Aunty Rosa never tried that. But no blow
followed.

"Are you showing off? I won't tell you anything more than Aunty Rosa
has, and she does n't know everything," said Black Sheep as clearly as
he could for the arms round his neck.

"Oh, my son--my little, little son! It was my fault--my fault,
darling--and yet how could we help it? Forgive me, Punch." The voice
died out in a broken whisper, and two hot tears fell on Black Sheep's
forehead.

"Has she been making you cry, too?" he asked. "You should see Jane
cry. But you're nice, and Jane is a Born Liar--Aunty Rosa says so."

"Hush, Punch, hush! My boy, don't talk like that. Try to love me a
little bit--a little bit. You don't know how I want it. Punch-baba,
come back to me! I am your Mother--your own Mother--and never mind the
rest. I know--yes, I know, dear. It does n't matter now. Punch, won't
you care for me a little?"

It is astonishing how much petting a big boy of ten can endure when he
is quite sure that there is no one to laugh at him. Black Sheep had
never been made much of before, and here was this beautiful woman
treating him--Black Sheep, the Child of the Devil and the Inheritor of
Undying Flame--as though he were a small God.

"I care for you a great deal, Mother dear," he whispered at last, "and
I'm glad you've come back; but are you sure Aunty Rosa told you
everything?"

"Everything. What does it matter? But----" the voice broke with a sob
that was also laughter--"Punch, my poor, dear, half-blind darling,
don't you think it was a little foolish of you?"

"No. It saved a lickin'."

Mamma shuddered and slipped away in the darkness to write a long
letter to Papa. Here is an extract:

"... Judy is a dear, plump little prig who adores the woman, and wears
with as much gravity as her religious opinions--only eight, Jack!--a
venerable horsehair atrocity which she calls her Bustle. I have