“It wouldn’t be my fortune,” said Miss Pepperill, lying back wearily in her chair. “And I don’t see how I can go back to those awful youngsters after New Year.”
“Sh!” begged Mrs. Eland.
“Oh, my! is our Tess an awful youngster?” asked Dot, bluntly.
“She is a dear!” declared Mrs. Eland, quickly.
“Theresa is an exception,” admitted Miss Pepperill. “But I certainly have some little tikes in my room.”
“Oh, I know,” said Dot. “Like Sammy Pinkney.”
“Sammy’s sick abed,” Tess said, coming into the room in time to hear his name mentioned. “I went over and asked his mother about him. The doctor won’t say what it is yet; but he’s out of his head.”
“Poor Sammy!” said Agnes. “Falling down our chimney yesterday was too much for him. He’s an unfortunate little chap after all.”
“Oh, my!” Dot observed, “if he is sick and dies, he’ll never get to be a pirate, will he?”
“Hear that child!” murmured Miss Pepperill, eyeing Dot as though she were a strange specimen indeed.