Fix is comed for you."
"Then Fix may go away again. Rosy doesn't want any tea. Rosy's too
bovvered and vexed. Go away, Fix."
But "Fix," as she called him, and as he called himself, didn't move.
Only the trouble in his delicate little face grew greater.
"_Is_ you bovvered, Losy?" he said. "Fix is welly solly," and he
came farther into the room. "Losy," he said again, still more gently
than before, "_do_ come to tea. Fix doesn't like having his tea
when Losy isn't there, and Fix is tired to-day."
Rosy looked at him a moment. Then a sudden change came over her. She
stooped down and threw her arms round the little boy's neck and hugged
him.
"Poor Fixie, dear Fixie," she said. "Rosy will come if _you_ want
her. Fixie never bovvers Rosy. Fixie loves Rosy, doesn't he?"
"Ses," said the child, kissing her in return, "but please don't skeese
Fix _kite_ so tight," and he wriggled a little to get out of her
grasp. Instantly the frown came back to Rosy's changeable face.
"You cross little thing," she said, half flinging her little brother
away from her, "you don't love Rosy. If you did, you wouldn't call her
cuddling you _skeesing_."
Fix's face puckered up, and he looked as if he were going to cry. But
just then steps were heard coming, and a boy's voice called out, "Fix,
Fix, what a time you are! If Rosy isn't there, never mind her. Come
along.
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