"Oh, what a story! We were there on Wednesday. Let's go down Gipsey Lane. We never go down Gipsey Lane."
"Why, we're always going down Gipsey Lane. And there's nothing to see there."
"I don't care, I won't go on the Common, and I shall go and get Papa to say we're to go down Gipsey Lane. I can run faster than you."
"That's very sneaking; but I don't care."
"Papa! Papa! Polly's called me a sneak."
"No, I didn't, Papa."
"You did."
"No, I didn't. I only said it was sneaking of you to say you'd run faster than me, and get Papa to say we were to go down Gipsey Lane."
"Then you did call him sneaking," said Mr. Skratdj. "And you're a very naughty ill-mannered little girl. You're getting very troublesome, Polly, and I shall have to send you to school, where you'll be kept in order. Go where your brother wishes at once."
For Polly and her brother had reached an age when it was convenient, if possible, to throw the blame of all nursery differences on Polly. In families where domestic discipline is rather fractious than firm, there comes a stage when the girls almost invariably go to the wall, because they will stand snubbing, and the boys will not. Domestic authority, like some other powers, is apt to be magnified on the weaker class.