“She’s your girl!”
The sly interruption stopped him. It came from a person to be identified only as one of a group clustering about his Aunt Ella’s boxes; and it was accompanied by a general giggle but half-suppressed in spite of the adult presences.
“You hush opp!” Laurence shouted.
“Laurence! Laurence!” said Mrs. Coy. “What is the matter, dear? It seems to me you’re really not at all polite to poor little Daisy.”
Laurence pursued the line of conduct he had set for himself as his only means of safety. “I wouldn’t be polite to her,” he said; “I wouldn’t be polite to her if I had to eat a million——”
“Laurence!”
“I wouldn’t!” he stoutly maintained. “Not if I had to eat a million, million——”
“Never mind!” his mother said with some emphasis. “Plenty of the other boys will be delighted to play with dear little Daisy.”
“No,” said Daisy brightly, “I got to play with Laurence.”
Laurence looked at her. When a grown person looks at another in that way, it is time for the police, and Mrs. Coy was conscious of an emergency. She took Laurence by the shoulders, faced him about and told him to run and play with some one else; then she turned back to Daisy. “We’ll find some nice little boy——” she began. But Daisy had followed Laurence.