“Yes, I know it; it is close to the sweet-stuff shop. Straight on.” The boy made an effort to get up, but down he sprawled again. “I cannot walk just now, or I would go with you as far as the sweet-stuff shop. There is lovely barley-sugar and plum-cake, and lots of raisins. Bath-buns stuck all over with lumps of sugar, and jam-puffs. Which do you like best, jam-puffs or plum-cake?”
“Neither,” said Kitty, jerking out the word and jerking up her chin.
“Neither!” feebly echoed the fat boy, his cheeks quivering with surprise. “Bath-buns, then?”
“You are very dull,” interrupted Kitty with flashing eyes. “Whichever way I turn the conversation you turn it back to tarts and cakes.”
“Con—ver—sa—tion! What is that? Is it plum-preserves or straw—ber—ry?” and he nodded asleep with a snore.
“Conversation—preserves! He is stupid!” said Kitty, walking away. She tried to laugh, just to keep from feeling miserable.
Naughty Children Land was a dull, ugly place. She had changed her mind concerning it. She wished, with all the might of her little heart, she had never put her foot inside it, and she was glad Johnnie had not come with her.
As she came nearer to the end of the lane she could more plainly see the village of which she had caught only glimpses. There were the houses with the broken window-panes, through which she could see the smashed crockery and furniture, and the cross, fat children looking out. There were the gardens all a-tangle of thistles and weeds. There were more frightened animals, more shrieking, squabbling children, kicking and growing purple in the face. There were the do-nothing children dolefully crying among their broken toys and their torn lesson-books. There were the mischievous children playing pranks upon everybody. All were unhappy! Coming, Kitty could not tell whence, and going, she did not know whither, appearing here—there—everywhere—as if out of the air, were the stern old ladies, pouncing upon the children and disappearing with them.
Kitty now perceived a group of little girls who looked tattered and torn, and who seemed to be playing at some game. They were running about in all directions, looking here—looking there—emptying their pockets—banging their sides—searching the ground—stopping suddenly and tapping their foreheads, as if to find something there.
They were in rags, but they had good-humored, slobbery, dirty faces.