"I's sossy for that," said Diana. "I had to touch you 'cos you wouldn't look up. I has something most 'portant to talk over."
"Have you indeed?" replied Miss Ramsay. She closed her book. The part she was reading was not specially interesting, and she could not help being amused with such a very curious specimen of the genus child as Diana Delaney.
"Well, little girl, and what is it?" she asked.
"I 'spects," said Diana, looking very solemnly into her face, "that you and me, we has both got the same enemies."
"The same enemies! My dear child, what do you mean?" asked Miss Ramsay.
"I 'spects I's wight," said Diana, tossing her black head. "I's not often wrong. I wead your thoughts—I think that you has a desp'ate hate, down deep in your heart, to Aunt Jane."
"Good gracious!" cried the governess, "what does the child mean? Why should I hate Mrs. Dolman?"
"But why should not you?—that's the point," said Diana.
"Well, I don't," said Miss Ramsay.
Diana looked intently at her. Slowly, but surely, her big black eyes filled with tears; the tears rolled down her cheeks; she did not attempt to wipe them away.