“I believe,” said Susan, now irritated beyond endurance, “that you mean to spend it all on Billy Stokes’ day.”
Billy Stokes was a man who came round once a week selling sweetmeats, and it was Sophia Jane’s custom to spend her pennies in this way when she had any.
“If you do,” continued Susan, getting more cross every moment, “you’ll be dreadfully greedy, and most likely you’ll make yourself ill.”
Sophia Jane only smiled gently and settled herself more comfortably in her chair.
“And I suppose you remember,” said Susan, whose voice became louder and more defiant with each sentence, “that if you don’t get the head you can’t have the bonnet.”
The last word was almost shrieked, for she had now quite lost her temper, and at this moment Margaretta looked into the room. Now it was always taken for granted by the household that in any dispute Sophia Jane must be in the wrong; so now Margaretta came at once to this conclusion, in spite of Susan’s hot and angry looks.
“How can you be so naughty, Sophia Jane,” she said, “as to quarrel with a sweet-tempered child like Susan? You must have been very unkind and tiresome to vex her so much.”
Neither of the little girls spoke, for Susan was still feeling too angry, and Sophia Jane took a scolding as a matter of course.
“If you don’t say you’re sorry,” pursued Margaretta, “I sha’n’t take you out with me this afternoon. I don’t wish to have a sulky little girl with me. Susan shall go alone.”
There was no word from Sophia Jane, or even any sign of having heard this speech. At another time Susan would have said something in her defence, for she knew this blame to be entirely unjust. But just now she was so vexed with her that she kept silence, and allowed Margaretta to go on without interruption.