"'Shine out, little het,'" repeated Fräulein. And Nancy said it after her. "'Shine out, little head, shine out, little head ... sunning over with curls.'"
Then she said to her governess: "Say that over and over and over again, until I tell you not to;" and she shut her eyes.
"Aber warum?" asked Fräulein Müller.
Nancy did not open her eyes nor answer.
"Komische Kleine," said Fräulein; and added, in order to practise her English, "Comic small!" Then she did as she was told.
That night Nancy quarrelled with "Baby Bunting." She sat up in bed with flushed cheeks and small, tight fists, and said to Fräulein Müller: "Do not tell me that any more."
Fräulein, who had been droning on in the dusk over her knitting, and thinking that at this hour in Düsseldorf her sister and mother were eating belegte Brödchen, looked up in surprise.
"What it is, mein Liebchen?"
"Do not tell me any more about that rabbit. I cannot hear about him any more. You keep on—you keep on till I am ill."