'Then thou may'st just take them back again,' said Bell, shortly, blowing out that which he had lighted, and placing one of her own on the dresser instead.
Sylvia caught her mother's look of displeasure, and it made her docile for the evening, although she owed her cousin a grudge for her enforced good behaviour.
'Now, Sylvia, here's a copy-book wi' t' Tower o' London on it, and we'll fill it wi' as pretty writing as any in t' North Riding.'
Sylvia sate quite still, unenlivened by this prospect.
'Here's a pen as 'll nearly write of itsel',' continued Philip, still trying to coax her out her sullenness of manner.
Then he arranged her in the right position.
'Don't lay your head down on your left arm, you'll ne'er see to write straight.'
The attitude was changed, but not a word was spoken. Philip began to grow angry at such determined dumbness.
'Are you tired?' asked he, with a strange mixture of crossness and tenderness.
'Yes, very,' was her reply.