Marjorie was really frightened lest the stain should not come out of Helen’s hair.
Zaidie roared louder, and Helen sobbed, while Kenneth, suddenly overcome by sympathy, added his voice to the uproar.
“Children, how could you?” said Marjorie again, walking around Helen, and wondering where to get hold of her best.
“You ought to have come here and told us to don’t,” sobbed Zaidie. “We always don’t when ’Liza tells us to. You readed and readed all the time, and you never told us to don’t.”
“Don’t shriek so, Zaidie; I’m not deaf,” said Marjorie, ignoring the other point for the present. “Don’t cry so, Helen. You may get the blacking in your eyes. Stand still, and I’ll try to strip your clothes off. Don’t touch me, dear, or you’ll stain my things.”
“Whatever’s the matter, Miss Marjorie?” said Eliza’s voice from the doorway. “Oh, you naughty children! How have you been and gone and gotten yourselves into such a mess?”
“Oh, ’Liza!” cried Marjorie, thankfully. “I’m so glad you’ve come! Will this black ever come out of her hair?”
“Land knows! Did I ever see such a place in all my born days?” casting a hurried glance around at the sticky, shiny bathroom.
“She readed all the time, and she didn’t ever tell us to don’t,” said Zaidie, pointing a reproachful finger at Marjorie, and thereby easing her own small conscience of a load.
“I jest guess you knew better’n that yourself,” said ’Liza. “But how could you let ’em do so, Miss Marjorie?”