Poor Miss Mervyn shook her head, but after a few mild persuasions gave in, and Philip had her way as usual, not only in this, but in everything that she wished to do throughout the walk. Dennis and Maisie were used to seeing this whenever they came to Haughton, but it never ceased to surprise them, because it was so very different from their unquestioning obedience to rules at Fieldside. It certainly did not seem to make Philippa happy or pleasant. Although she did what she liked, she never appeared to like what she did, and was always wanting something different, and complaining about everything.
“Let’s go back now,” she said at last, dragging her feet slowly through a puddle as she spoke; “my feet are wet.”
“I should think they were,” sighed Miss Mervyn. “Come, let us make haste home, so that you may have your boots and stockings changed.”
But the perverse Philippa would not hurry. She now lingered behind the others, and even stood still now and then, causing Miss Mervyn great misery. “She will certainly take cold,” she murmured. “Cannot you persuade her, my dears, to come on.”
“Let’s have a race, Philippa, as far as the house,” called out Dennis.
Running fast had been forbidden, so it was perhaps on that account attractive to Philippa, who at once consented to the proposal, and Miss Mervyn, thinking it the less of two evils, made no objection.
“Maisie must have a start because she’s the smallest,” said Dennis, placing his sister a little in front; “now, one, two, three, off!”
The little flying figures sped away towards the house, and Miss Mervyn following, was pleased to see that Dennis allowed Philippa to win the race; that would perhaps make her more good-tempered.
“Ha, ha!” exclaimed Philippa, pointing a scornful finger at Maisie as she came panting up last, with her round cheeks very red. “What a slow coach! Maisie’s too fat to run.”
“She’s younger than we are,” said Dennis, who did not allow any one but himself to tease his sister.