However disturbed and worried she might feel, there were the weekly books to be gone through, and this time without Nanna's shrewd, kindly help.
Suddenly she started, for Timmy's claw-like little hand was on her arm: "Mum," he said earnestly, "do tell me what Colonel Crofton was really like?
Did that lady--you know, I mean the person Jack thinks is jealous of Mrs.Crofton--tell you what he was like ?" "No--yes--oh, Timmy! I'm afraid you must have been listening at the door just now ?" "I didn't like to come in," he said, wriggling uneasily.

"I've never heard Jack speak in such an angry way before.

He was in a wax, wasn't he?
But, Mum, do tell me what Colonel Crofton looked like--I do _so_ want to know." She put down her pen, and turning, gazed down into the child's eager, inquisitive little face.
"Why should you wish to know, Timmy ?" She spoke rather coldly and sternly.
She was sorry indeed now that she had been tempted to repeat what was perhaps after all only the outcome of Miss Pendarth's unconscious jealousy of the woman who had made a fool of the man she had loved as a girl.

It was unfortunately true that Olivia Pendarth had an unconscious prejudice against all young and pretty women.
"I want to know," mumbled Timmy, "because I think I do know what he was like." "If you know what he was like, then there is nothing more to say." "I want to be sure," he repeated obstinately.
"But how absurd, Timmy! Why should you want to know about a poor old gentleman who is dead, and of whom you are not likely ever to hear anything?
I have often told you how horrid it is to be inquisitive." Timmy paused over that remark.

"I want to know," he said in a low mumbling voice, "because I think I have seen him." He did not look up at his mother as he spoke.