"Oh, how d' do!" he said kindly. "I was wondering what had become of you. Good-bye! I'm off for the grand review to-day. Don't tire yourself out over the spiders. Good-bye!" And he was gone.
"I hate him!" cried the Little Sweetheart, her eyes flashing, and her cheeks scarlet.
"Oh no, you don't!" exclaimed all the spider-sweepers. "That's the worst of it. You may think you do; but you don't. You love him all the time after you've once begun."
"I'll go home!" said the Little Sweetheart.
"You can't," said the others. "It is not permitted."
"Is it always just like this in this Court?" she asked.
"Yes; always the same. One day just like another,--all whirl and dance from morning till night, and new people coming and going all the time, and spiders most of all. You can't think how fast brooms wear out in this Court!"
"I'll die!" said the Little Sweetheart.
"Oh no, you won't!" they said. "There are some of us, in some of the rooms here, that are wrinkled and gray-haired. The most of the Sweethearts live to be old."
"Do they?" said the Little Sweetheart, and burst into tears.