“Oh, Dolly!” she cried, “do sit still! I thought you were going over!” She crossed the piazza and moved the chair back a bit.
“I shall not fall,” laughed the child happily.
“Wis’ she would!” piped up a little voice three chairs away, “wis’ she would, and be all deaded!”
“Why, Marmaduke Bill!” Polly’s voice was shocked. “What a wicked wish!”
“Don’t care!” retorted the little boy. “Wis’ she would!”
Polly walked over to Little Duke and turned his chair so that it faced the house.
“I am sorry that you have such naughty thoughts,” she said in a soft voice. And she left him without the smile or the loving pat with which she was used to delight his heart.
“My don’t care! My don’t care!” he pouted.
The other children looked on with frightened, wondering eyes. It was seldom that Polly dealt out punishment even in this mild fashion.
Presently, after she had gone upstairs, Sardis Merrifield came across from the Study, and taking a book from his pocket began to read.