“Good night, little baby; go to your cradle.”
“I’ll whip you to-morrow!” was all I could grind out between my clenched teeth, while he ran, laughing, into the hall. As I groped my way down the steps, my eyes all blinded with tears, I heard some one say:
“Here come the band! they are going to play for the children.”
This was the last feather on the camel’s back of my fortitude, and I broke down into sobbing.
To have Lulie think I was babyish, and had to be sent for; to have our conversation broken off so suddenly, when it was becoming so pleasant; to leave a scene of gaiety before it was finished, and then, too, when the best part was coming, and, above all, to have my hated rival triumph in my humiliation, was enough to have crushed a stouter heart than mine.
When we reached the corner, round which we turned into our street, William stopped, and said:
“There! listen at the music!”
I wiped away the tears from my eyes, and looked back at the building. ‘Twas brightly illuminated, and indistinct forms could be seen passing to and fro at the windows. A quick, lively air from the band came floating to my ears, and I knew Frank was by Lulie’s side.
“Oh, William,” I sobbed, “I—do—want—to—go back—so bad.”