“If you would take an interest you could do something for Lillie and she could do something for you.”
He did not jest this away. He was taking an interest now and doing some humiliating thinking, and as a result of all this he stood before himself in a clear, new light, in which it could readily be seen that he was less in need of sympathy than of pardon.
On her way home that afternoon Nannie called at Mrs. Earnest's house, and was boisterously welcomed by the two little ones of the family, Mamie and Jim.
“A story! A story!” they shouted.
“Oh, I can't,” said Nannie. “I haven't any in my head.”
“Yes, you must! You promised!” urged Jim in an extremely moral tone (he himself was a shocking transgressor in the matter of promises). “You promised! You know you did! You've got to!”
“Well, what shall it be about?”
“Indians!” screamed Jim, “and let them do a lot of killing!”
“No. I want a kitty story,” said Mamie.
“I won't have a kitty story—I want a bloody Indian story!” said Jim stoutly.