“Ellice, dear, I am sorry, but—”
“You don’t want to take me, Connie; but, all the same, I am going. I want to see—her!”
“Why?”
“I want to see her,” the girl said. A dusky glow of sudden passion came into her face. “I want to see her. There is no harm, is there?” She laughed shrilly. “I shan’t hurt her by looking at her. I want to see her again, the woman that he loves.” There was a shake in her voice, a suggestion of passionate tears, but the child held herself in check.
“Ellice, darling, it will be better if you—”
“If I don’t go. I know, but I am going. You—you can’t turn me out, Connie. I am too strong; I shall cling to the sides of the cart.”
There was a look, half of laughter, half of defiance, in the girl’s eyes.
“Connie, I am going, and nothing shall prevent me!”
Connie sighed, and stepped into the cart and took up the reins. “Very well, dear!” she said resignedly.
“You are angry with me, Connie?”