“’Faid? what ’faid?”
“You don’t know? Well, I hope you never will.”
“What ’faid? what ’faid? what ’faid?” peremptorily demanded this despotic little inquisitor.
“’Faid is—bad, naughty,” said Meg, after some little perplexity.
“No, Lenny not ’faid.”
“And will Lenny let ‘Met’ go get some water?”
“Yes.”
“And sit here and don’t move until I come?”
“Yes.”
Away ran the girl, and as quickly as she could borrow a bucket and fetch the water she returned to the room.