“I won’t go to bed. I’m going to stay here until mama comes.”
“Oh, you must. The clocks have struck eight.”
“But I’m not going to.” He caught the arm of the chair. “You try now and I’ll kick you with my hind leg.”
She knew well enough that he would kick. Somehow she did not feel equal to the struggle.
“Tell me a story,” was his next demand. “About somebody being put in the pit. Sunday school teacher told it. Why, I’d climb out.”
So she told him the story and then another, rocking slowly, and as the demand ceased she knew he was asleep. But she did not dare try to get him to bed. So she went to her own thoughts, the last week passed with the fairy godmother and Dr. Richards.
It was ten when the family returned.
“Oh, Marilla, how could you let him go to sleep! He’s so cross when you wake him up.”
“I couldn’t get him to go––” 160
“Jack!” His father picked him up and carried him to the sleeping room.