don't bite,' and if I was a sahib
I mustn't do it, so I don't. I don't bite people often."

"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes quite good-natured
people will do things in fun, never thinking it will hurt."

Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated me," he repeated. "He said he
would make it come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't like
me--that's why."

"I don't think you ought to say that, and be so unforgiving. I expect
Daddie forgot all about your biting him directly, and yet you remember
what he did after this long time."

Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair.

"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as though he hadn't heard, "not
really. Mummy was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd whip me because
I was so surly, and she was afraid he would ... I _knew_ he wouldn't,
not unless he could do it some cheaty way, and you can't whip people
that way. But it frightened Mummy. She used to send me away when he
came...."

Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly he smiled. "But I
always came back very quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I liked
to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose he liked to look at her, so do
I. Nobody wants to look at me ... much ... except Mummy."

"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at you just every bit as much
as I like to look at Fay. I think you care rather too much what people
look like, Tony."

"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately.

"Other things matter much more. Courage and kindness and truth and
honesty. Look at Mr. Ledgard--he's not what you'd call a beautiful
person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look at him."

"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. Ledgard. Why?"

Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable jump. She certainly
always _thought_ of him as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally
spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, but, unlike Tony, made no
remark.

"Why?" Tony repeated.

"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because I hear the rest of you do
it. I've no sort of right to."

"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is a devil?"

"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, with the utmost
sincerity.

"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to look at?"

"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution.

"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil--when I used to come back
because Mummy was frightened ... she was always frightened when he
talked about money, and he did