She repaired to a corner cupboard, and produced a rich cake, off which, with a deep sigh, she cut a very thin slice, and laid it on the table before the child.
"Now, Olivia," said she, "tell me."
"I am not hungry, thank you, madame," said Ollie.
"But this is cake!" screamed Mrs. Short. "Lovely rich pound cake, made with my own 'ands. It's delicious—that's what it is."
"Then eat it up, madame," answered Ollie, mildly.
Mrs. Short could have danced with rage, only that her figure was not suited to such violent exercise.
"You unmannerly cub!" said she. "Answer my questions in good English, or I shall box your ears soundly."
"I shall not speak any more English at all," said Ollie, gravely. "But if you touch me, I shall roar, and Ruth will hear me."
And to this determination, he adhered. Mrs. Short tried bribes and persuasions in vain, and she was afraid to strike him. Ollie sat quietly on his perch, pouring forth replies to everything she said, but all in what she called his nasty furrin' tongue; and not one word of common sense could she get out of him, as she afterwards remarked. At last the knock at the door, of which I have already spoken, concluded this vexatious interview.
"That's Ruthie!" cried Ollie, dropping off his chair and making for the door; but, remembering himself, he turned and made a polite bow to Mrs. Short, saying: