Johnnie looked wistfully before him: his face was crimson; his eyes shone like two tiny lamps; the little hand in Kitty’s seemed to burn. Then he said cheerily:
“It would not do for every one to have two legs. There would not be any one to sit down, and look on, and clap hands, and say hurrah! when the others were running matches, you know.”
“As you did when Cousin Charlie and I played in the hay that day last summer,” cried Kitty.
“Yes,” said Johnnie, and he began to mutter something Kitty did not understand.
“We’ll play again next summer, and you’ll look on,” said Kitty.
“Yes. How sweet the hay smells!” said Johnnie in a strange far-away voice.
“Miss Kitty!” said some one behind.
Turning round Kitty saw nurse standing with her two hands raised and her eyes round with alarm and trouble. “Oh, Miss Kitty, what have you done? what have you done?”
“I am not going!” cried Kitty, stamping one bare foot. “I won’t go. Every one comes to Johnnie but me.”
“What is the matter?” asked another anxious voice. It was the children’s mother. “Kitty here!” she added, very much amazed.