There was undoubtedly a tiny crimson spot on Dorothy's apron, and she began to sob again at the sight, and say she must go home that minute to Ingleby.
"Go along, then," said Willy, roughly; "we don't want a cry-baby with us. Look at Bob; he has quite forgotten the thump you gave him, and wants to kiss you."
I am sorry to say Dorothy turned a very unwilling cheek towards Baby Bob, who said—
"I'll never take your letter no more, Dolly."
Dorothy had, as we know, several nicknames from her uncle, but she had a particular aversion to that of "Dolly," and just touching Baby Bob with her lips, she said, "I hate to be called Dolly."
"Well," Willy said, "here come the donkeys, and Marietta and Francesco, and no one is ready. Come, make haste, girls."
"Come, Dorothy," Irene said, "let me put on your skirt." For the children had each a neat little blue serge skirt which they wore for their donkey expeditions. "Come, Dorothy," Irene pleaded. But Dorothy said she should stay with Lady Burnside till Ingleby came for her.
"You can't stay with grannie—she is very busy with business; and Constance has one of her headaches, and is in bed."
"Then I'll wait here till Jingle comes."
There was a wonderful amount of obstinacy expressed in that pretty, fair little face; and then Crawley came in to say the donkeys must not be kept waiting. Irene, finding it useless to say more, went to get ready, as Ella had already done, and left Dorothy in the sitting-room playing a tattoo on the window as she curled herself up in a circular straw chair.