“Oh, Mabel! don’t hurt them,” cried Dot.
“I’m not hurting them,” responded Mabel, sharply. “I’m carrying them just as careful as I can by their stems.”
“Oh, dear—don’t!” shrieked Dot, quite horrified. “Them’s their tails, Mabel Creamer.”
“Huh! what else are they for, I’d like to know?” propounded the visitor. “A cat’s tail is made for it to be grabbed by.”
“You—you——You’re cruel, Mabel Creamer!” gasped Dot. “Put them down!”
She tumbled the two staggering kittens out of her own lap and ran to rescue the poor, squalling mites in Mabel’s hands. Mabel was not a child to be driven in any case. There was a struggle. Dot rescued the two little mites, but Mabel slapped the little Corner House girl’s cheek twice—and her hand left its mark.
“You’re a nasty little thing, Dot Kenway!” scolded Mabel, marching down the steps and out at the gate. “I never did like you much, and I just hate you, now.”
Dot sat down, sobbing, on the step, and nursed the bruised cheek. The four little kittens squirmed all over her lap and tumbled about like drunken caterpillars—and that helped some. For soon the tears were dried and Dot began to laugh at their antics. Just the same, Mabel’s blow had left a bruise upon the smallest Corner House girl’s heart which she long remembered.
Tess had had a rather hard day, too. Of course, there was a new teacher ruling over the eighth grade; and strict as Miss Pepperill had been, even Sammy Pinkney would have been glad to “swap back” for the red-haired teacher, after a session’s experience with Miss Grimsby.
Miss Grimsby was young, but she looked a lot older than most of the other teachers. She wore her sleek, black hair brushed straight back from a high, blue-veined forehead. She wore enormous, shell-bowed spectacles.