She was far away in an enchanted land with Alladin, and did not hear Mrs. Armitage creep up to her; the first intimation she had of her presence was an awful blow on the ear which made her see stars, and knocked the book half across the room.
“You lazy, trifling trollope! I’ll learn you to spend your time reading such trash. Now you march downstairs, and if you can’t find anything else to do go out in the garden and weed them onion beds,” saying which she pounced viciously upon the book.
“Pa said I need not weed them until the sun went down, and it got cooler,” faltered Thella.
“Your father is learnin’ you to be as lazy as he is himself,” snapped Mrs. Armitage; “you march, now, and no more of your sass.”
Thella rose and pushed back her heavy hair, preparatory to following her.
“Will you please let me put away the book?” she said.
“I’ll please put it in the fire,” she replied viciously.
“Oh, no, no! Don’t, it isn’t mine!” she cried frantically as she made a vain endeavor to reach it.
Mrs. Armitage gave her another resounding slap: “There, take that, you little cat!”
As she commenced descending the stairs Thella darted before her, and hurriedly ran to the field to her father; she caught hold of his hands and pulled the hoe away from him.