[p220]
Max was riding his tricycle. He had arranged the furniture to suit himself—a little table here, a chair there, and the rest of the things pushed out of the way; and he was earnestly practising some sharp turns and curves, in and out, out and in of the articles he had stood about. He had his tongue a little way out, a sure sign of the undivided attention he was giving the work. The way he manipulated the handles, the command he had over the little machine was really admirable.
Kate was convulsed.
“Why—why,” said Miss Bibby, “how did he get his tricycle? It certainly was not there when I went in last. Who gave him his tricycle?”
“I did, Miss Bibby,” said Lynn meekly. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Oh, Lynn!” said Miss Bibby.
“But he looked so lonely,” said the little girl piteously.
Miss Bibby went round at once to the other door and demanded “Trike,” though Kate strongly advised against it.
“I’ve quite fin’shed with it,” said the rebel sweetly, and dismounted without a struggle.
Miss Bibby wheeled it out, somewhat ignominiously.
“I want you to sit down quietly and think [p221] how very naughty you have been, Max,” she said. “Remember, I am coming in a few minutes to ask you if you are sorry.”