Carrie stood with one elbow upon the corner of the table at which her sister sat, her chin resting in her palm as she discontentedly watched Nellie, while with the other hand she swung back and forth by one string the broad straw hat she was accustomed to wear when playing out of doors.
"I think you might," she said presently. "Mamma says I can't go if you don't, and I want to go so."
"I can't help it," said Nellie, still without taking her eyes from her Bible. "I wish you'd stop shaking the table so."
"How soon will you come?" persisted Carrie, taking her elbow from the table.
"When I'm ready, and not before," snapped Nellie. "I wish you'd let me alone."
Carrie began to cry.
"It's too bad," she whimpered. "Mamma says, if I go at all, I must go early, so as to be back before sundown, 'cause my cold is so bad. There won't be any time for me to play."
Nellie made no answer, but, having found what she wanted in her Bible, began to write again, copying from the page of the Holy Book before her.
Presently Carrie, forgetting her caution, tossed down her hat, and pettishly plumped both elbows upon the table, muttering,—
"I think you're real mean."