“Yes, once,” said she with a timid glance at Mrs. Hilary, who immediately laid down her embroidery.
“Out with it,” I cried, triumphantly. “Come along, Miss Phyllis. We won’t tell, honor bright!”
Miss Phyllis looked again at Mrs. Hilary. Mrs. Hilary is human:
“Well, Phyllis, dear,” said she, “after all this time I shouldn’t think it my duty—”
“It only happened last summer,” said Miss Phyllis.
Mrs. Hilary looked rather put out.
“Still,” she began.
“We must have the story,” said I.
Little Miss Phyllis put down the sock she had been knitting.
“I was very naughty,” she remarked. “It was my last term at school.”