"Hold on, Pin ... take this," she said, giving her sister the heavy leather bag they were carrying in turns to the tramway. Pin obediently held out her hand, in its little white cotton glove.
"And my hat."
"What are you going to do, Laura?"
"You'll see."
"You'll get sunstroke!"
"Fiddles!—it's quite shady. Here're my gloves.—Now, Pin, you follow your nose and you'll find me—WHERE you find me!"
"Oh, what ARE you going to do, Laura?" cried Pin, in anxiety.
"I'm going to have a good run," said Laura; and tightened her hair-ribbon.
"Oh, but you can't run in the street! You're too big. People'll see you."
"Think I care?—If you'd been years only doing what you were allowed to, I guess you'd want to do something you weren't allowed to, too.— Good-bye!"