"Open the door, Sarah."
"No, I am not going to open the door," cried Sarah shrilly. "You can just stay out."
A long silence succeeded. She settled again to her work.
"'Man is the only living creature that can stand or walk erect. The human skeleton—'"
When there was another knock at the door, Sarah started up furiously.
"You can knock all night and I won't let you in," she shrieked. "You are all the time after me, you—"
Again the knob was turned. She did not realize that the voice which bade her unlock the door was lower and softer than those to which she had been listening. She was too angry to distinguish one voice from another. The girl who had withstood the persecutions of an Uncle Daniel would not endure forever the teasing of two girls of her own age. She seized her pitcher from the stand. Not without much spilling of water on floor and bed, she climbed to the footboard.
"Will you go 'way, then!"
"Sarah, open the door."
"I won't." And Sarah turned the pitcher upside down, its mouth protruding from the transom. There was a splash, a quick exclamation, and then a stern command.