Dunlop paused in his wailing to say: "It's that girl over there. She stopped telling a story. And I told her to keep on. And she didn't."
"Oh, Master Dunlop! A-talking to them charity chillen!" exclaimed the nurse. "You're in mischief soon as my back's turned. Come away, Master Dunlop, come along with me and Master Arthur. You'll catch—no telling what."
"I've had fever," announced Dunlop, proudly. "And I'm not to be fretted. Mamma told you so. I won't go, Martha. I'll cry if you try to make me. I want to hear that story.—Tell it, girl," he commanded.
"We don't answer people that speak to us like that, do we, Honey-Sweet?" said Anne, turning away. "We'll go under the elm-tree in the far corner.—And the fair, forlorn princess got off her milk-white steed to pick some berries—and whizz! gallop! off he went and left her. So the princess walked on alone through the forest—" as Anne spoke she was walking away from the hedge.
Dunlop began to scream again.
Martha spoke hastily. "If you'll hush, I'll ask her to tell you the story. If you scream, Master Dunlop, your mother'll call you in and she'll make you take a spoonful of that bitter stuff."
"You call that girl, then," he commanded.
Martha raised her voice. "Little girl, oh, little girl!—I don't know your name. Please come back."
Anne paused, but did not turn her head.
"This little boy has been ill," Martha continued. "He's just getting over fever. And he's notiony. Won't you please tell that story to him?"