to heaven," said Dad. "I'll fetch him, and you can get it over."
"Do nothing of the kind!" I exclaimed. "Let him stay with his mother."
"I guess I'm competent to entertain bis mother for a few minutes," suggested Dad. "She's a very pleasant-looking lady."
I would have stopped him if I could; but when I saw he was determined, I just shut my lips tight, and let him go. What I meant to do was to whisk out as soon as his back was turned, so that when Mr. Winston should come, he would find me gone. There was no danger he wouldn't understand why; and a decided action like that on my part would settle everything for the future.
But as I got to the door I saw him, not six feet distant. He must either have been on the way to the summer-house when Dad left me, or else he'd been waiting close by. Anyhow, evidently he and Dad couldn't have said two words to each other; there hadn't been time; and there was Dad marching off as if to find and "entertain" Lady Brighthelmston. I should almost have had to push past Mr. Winston, if I'd persisted in escaping, which would have looked childish, so quickly I resolved to stand my ground—in the summer-house—and face it out. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly think, and I had to tell myself crossly, with a sort of mental shake, that after all he was the guilty one, not I, before I could catch at even a decent amount of savoir faire.
Naturally, as it was the only thing to be said, his
