‘Where’s Micky?’ inquired Kitty the next morning when Jane came into the dining-room with the teapot and the grim announcement that breakfast was quite ready, and the young ladies had better come to table.
‘He’s a very naughty, dirty boy,’ said Jane, as though that was a sufficient answer to Kitty’s question.
‘He hasn’t had much time to be naughty yet, poor Micky!’ said Kitty, in an aggrieved voice.
The twins always expected the offences of yesterday to be buried in oblivion.
Jane did not see fit to notice the remark, and, when the door had closed behind her, Kitty returned to her wonder.
‘Do you suppose Micky’s been playing that his soap-dish is a ship in a storm as he did the other day, and that Jane won’t let him come down to breakfast?’
The guess was a fairly likely one, for the game to which Kitty alluded involved such a free dispersal of bath-water all over the floor that Jane was quite likely to consider it both naughty and dirty though, as Micky had pointed out, you could not well play with cleaner things than soap and water.
‘I don’t know, and don’t care,’ said Emmeline, shortly.
She had wakened up that morning in a very bad temper.
‘It’s rather horrid of you, then,’ said Kitty, reproachfully; ‘specially as there are eggs, and Micky didn’t have much tea last night or any supper, I don’t suppose. I think I’ll go up and see what’s happening to him. I don’t care if Jane does catch me.’