“Haven’t I?” Maida replied. But she added nothing.
At first because of the noise which prevailed at breakfasts in the Little House, nobody noticed Maida’s continued silence. Then finally Rosie Brine made comment on it. “Sleepy-head! Sleepy-head!” she teased. “Wake up and talk. You’re not in bed asleep. You’re sitting at the table.”
Maida opened her lips to speak but closed them quickly on something which it was apparent, she even repented thinking. She shut her lips firmly and maintained her silence.
“S’eepy-head! S’eepy-head!” the little mimic, Delia, prattled. “Wate up and tot. Not in bed as’eep. Sitting at table.”
Everybody laughed. Everybody always laughed at Delia’s strenuous efforts to produce as copious a stream of conversation as the grown-ups. But Maida only bit her lips.
The talk drifted among the older children to plans for the day.
“Perhaps you will give us your views, Miss Westabrook,” Laura said after some discussion, with a touch of purely friendly sarcasm. “That is if you will condescend to talk with us.”
“Oh can’t I be quiet once in a while,” Maida exclaimed pettishly, “without everybody speaking of it!” She rose from the table. “I’m tired of talking!” She walked quickly out of the dining room and ran upstairs to her own chamber. The children stared for a moment petrified.
“Why I never saw Maida cross before,” Rosie said in almost an awed tone. “I wonder what can be the matter. I hope I didn’t say anything—”
“No, of course you didn’t,” Arthur answered. “Maida got out of the wrong side of her bed this morning—that’s all.”