She fell to weeding her garden with great industry while he was walking on the path near it. Then when he rambled farther away, she hovered about here and there, now plucking a flower, now giving chase to a great praying mantis. She was within a few feet of him all the time.
[23]
]“What are you buzznaccing about like this for?” he said at last irritably, when her short holland frock appeared at every path he turned down. He threw himself down on the grass, and pulled his cap over his eyes.
“Flibberty-Gibbet had a tic in his head this morning,” said the little girl, sitting down beside him Turk fashion.
“Well, I don’t care,” Bunty said, with almost a groan.
A look of anger crept up into the little sister’s earnest eyes.
“I ’spect it’s that old Burnham again,” she said wrathfully. “What’s he been doing this time?”
Bunty groaned again.
“Was it your Greek?” she said, edging nearer. “Howid stuff! As if you could be espected to get it right always!”
There was another smothered sound from beneath the cap.
“Was it that nasty algebra?” said the little, encouraging voice. It was so tender and anxious and loving that the boy uncovered his eyes a little.