“Don’t hurt me! Don’t take me away! Please, please don’t!” she cried, dancing wildly.
“I won’t hurt you, Miss. I be going to help you to pick ’em up,” said Jan. By the time he had returned her treasures to her skirt, Amabel had regained confidence, especially as she saw no signs of the black bag in which naughty children are supposed to be put.
“What are you doing, Bogy?” said she.
“I be making a picture, Miss,” said Jan, pointing it out.
“Go on making it, please,” said Amabel; and she sat down and watched him.
“Do you like this wood, Bogy?” she asked, softly, after a time.
“I do, Miss,” said Jan.
“Why don’t you sleep in it, then? I wouldn’t sleep in a cellar, if I were you.”
“I don’t sleep in a cellar, Miss.”