He was beginning to grow red.
"Let it go at that!" ordained the Master.

"Don't spoil your own fun, by trying to find out, beforehand.

Be a good sportsman." "Fun!" snarled Cyril.

"What's the fun of secrets?
I want to know--" "It's snowing," observed the Mistress, as a handful of flakes began to drift past the windows, tossed along on a puff of wind.
"I want to KNOW!" half-wept the child; angry at the change of subject, and noting that the Mistress was moving toward the next room, with Lad at her heels.

"Come back and tell me!" He stamped after her to bar her way.