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 it a lot ... When he saw me, he would say: 'Wot you doing here, you surly little devil--listening, eh?'" Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that Jan positively jumped, and put out her hand to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen to....'" "Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all that?" Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never forget it, because, you see, it's all mixed up with Mummy so, and you said"--here Tony held up an accusing small finger at Jan--"you said I was never to forget her, not the least little bit." "I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering what was best to be done about these memories. Absently she dug her hoe into the ground, making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched her solemnly. "Then why," he went on, "do you not want me to remember Daddie?" "Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to remember sounds so unkind." "Well, I can't help that," Tony answered. Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here all afternoon," she remarked severely, "we shall never get that border weeded for Earley."