“I feel afraid: but may I try, do you think? May I knock at the door, and ask to be let in?”
I thought perhaps they might not object to have her as a playmate, and therefore encouraged the attempt.
She knocked—too faintly at first to be heard, but on a second essay the door unclosed; Graham’s head appeared; he looked in high spirits, but impatient.
“What do you want, you little monkey?”
“To come to you.”
“Do you indeed? As if I would be troubled with you! Away to mamma and Mistress Snowe, and tell them to put you to bed.” The auburn head and bright flushed face vanished,—the door shut peremptorily. She was stunned.
“Why does he speak so? He never spoke so before,” she said in consternation. “What have I done?”
“Nothing, Polly; but Graham is busy with his school-friends.”
“And he likes them better than me! He turns me away now they are here!”
I had some thoughts of consoling her, and of improving the occasion by inculcating some of those maxims of philosophy whereof I had ever a tolerable stock ready for application. She stopped me, however, by putting her fingers in her ears at the first words I uttered, and then lying down on the mat with her face against the flags; nor could either Warren or the cook root her from that position: she was allowed to lie, therefore, till she chose to rise of her own accord.