"And dressmakers and drunkards are so low," said Nan, with turned up nose. "You like them better than us."
Harebell looked thoughtfully at her accusers.
"I suppose," she said slowly, "it's because I always like interesting things to happen. Your games don't interest me. It's nothing but hitting balls, and nothing happens if you do win the game; you only begin all over again. Now a lot could happen when I see Tom and his sister—exciting things—and I want to make them come. And if I go to see people, they tell me all kinds of things I want to know, and you don't. You only laugh at me."
"Oh, you're just a little grown-up!" said Nan impatiently. "You might just as well put on long dresses, and turn up your hair, and go about the village as mother does. That's what you like doing!"
"It's all because you think so much of yourself," said Peter. "You're too cocky for us! You like to pretend you're clever, and are too old for games!"
"I love games! And you're very rude! But you and Nan always play together and don't want me, and when I join you, you laugh at me for being so stupid. I don't understand England, and I don't like it half as much as India, and I shall be glad when I go back to Aunt Diana's!"
Harebell flung herself out of the room, feeling hot and indignant. And yet in a measure, she knew what Peter and Nan had said of her was true. She did not enjoy playing with them, her head at this juncture was full of Tom and of his affairs, and she could think of nothing else.
[CHAPTER VIII]
A NEW UNCLE
HAREBELL found Miss Triggs working at her sewing-machine in the back kitchen. Mrs. Triggs was in her armchair, and she was knitting a stocking. Harebell shook hands gravely with both of them.