She walked toward the avenue, Gwen close beside her.
"Good-bye," Sprite said, with a pleasant smile.
"I'll not say 'good-bye!'" cried Gwen. "All I'll say is: 'That portrait is a picture of me!"
Her voice had risen to a shriek, and she stamped her foot.
Sprite, now wholly disgusted, turned and ran.
Mrs. Harcourt, from an upper window, saw Sprite running away from the house, just as Gwen's angry voice made itself heard.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "What a pity that of all the children that
Gwen knows, not one really understands her."
The lady, to whom she spoke, looked up into her handsome face, and wondered how any intelligent woman could be so blind regarding her own child.
"She's so very high strung," continued Mrs. Harcourt, "that she is easily excited, and she's so very sensitive that her playmates are constantly hurting her."
"Why do you not urge her to bear with her little friends patiently, and thus help matters to glide more smoothly?"