“You are not my guardian! Lady is my guardian, and you shall not take care of me; and the next place the cars stop at I mean to get out and go home to Lady. I know she is fretting after me now, and Ducky Darling is crying her eyes out, too. Oh, yes, I must get out at the very next place and go home.”
“But suppose I cannot let you go?” inquired Hanson, partly amused and partly annoyed by the child’s persistence.
“I’d just like to see you try to stop me,” said Owlet, turning her head on one side and looking at him out of the corner of her eye in the most mocking manner.
“Why, what would you do?”
“I’d raise such a row they would think the train was on fire—I’d scream and scream and scream, until everybody would run to see what was the matter.”
“And then what would you do?”
“I would tell them all about it, and I would beg somebody to take me home to Lady, and tell them how much Ducky Darling would love them.”
“And who is Ducky Darling?”
“Oh, she is the sweetest thing you ever did see! My sweet, lovely, dear Ducky Darling!”
“Oh, the little black monkey that yelled so when——” Hanson began, but stopped. He did not wish to admit too much to this uncanny child.