"What fun!" said Philip, the chord of destruction thrilling within him.
"Yes, wasn't it? I remember I cut the king with the crown on right out of the picture, with the giant's finger and thumb still round him. I kept it for a long time, but I lost it at last. When we had slashed the picture all to bits, Dad tore it out of its frame and rolled it up into a bundle and threw it into a corner. Then he went out for a long walk, without his hat. When Mother came home she cried. It was the only time I ever saw her cry. I didn't know till then that grown-up people did. I cried, too. I was little then."
"Has your father painted any more pictures?" asked Philip, diverting the conversation.
"No--never. He only paints wolf-scarers now. I tell him what to paint."
Philip's eyebrows rose, despite themselves.
"Yes, I do!" maintained Miss Falconer stoutly. "The other day he said to me: 'Here, Peggy, you understand the taste of the Hoypolloy'--that's another French word for people--'so give me an idea for a pot-boiler.' (He calls wolf-scarers 'pot-boilers' sometimes: I don't know why.) And I said: 'Well, I think it would be nice to have a picture of a little girl in a lovely frock with a new doll, showing it round the doll's house and introducing it to all the other dolls.' He laughed, and said: 'That's capital. I bet a sovereign they put that one on the line.' When I asked what line, he said, 'the clothes line.' He is a funny man," concluded Peggy once more.
They sat on for some time, discussing adult peculiarities. Finally Philip announced that he must go, for Uncle Joseph would return at four o'clock and expect him to tea. As they parted, Philip enquired awkwardly:--
"I say, Pegs,--will you tell me? I couldn't help wondering about something just now."
"What was it?" enquired Peggy graciously.
Miss Peggy's small frame stiffened indignantly.
"I wasn't ever doing any such thing," she announced in outraged tones.
Philip, whose knowledge of the sex was improving, had the sense to withdraw the imputation and apologise at once. Then he waited.
"Perhaps I was, just a little bit," admitted Peggy presently.
"What was the matter?" asked Philip gently.
"It was Father. He boxed my ears after lunch, for making a noise. I was only singing, but he is in one of his bad tempers just now. He will be all right in a day or two."