“Nan, dear,” she said, “shut up that book at once. Nan mustn’t touch. Shut the book, darling, and go and sit on the floor, and look at your nice-coloured pictures.”
Nan, still holding a chubby hand between the leaves of the album, gave Mrs Willis a full defiant glance, and said—
“Me won’t.”
“Come, Nan,” said the head-mistress.
“Me want Annie,” said Nan, still kneeling by the album, and, bending her head over the photographs, she turned the page and burst into a peal of laughter.
“Pitty bow vow,” she said, pointing to a photograph of a retriever; “oh, pitty bow woo, Nan loves ’oo.”
Mrs Willis stooped down and lifted the little girl into her arms.
“Nan, dear,” she said, “it is naughty to disobey. Sit down by your picture-book, and be a good girl.”
“Me won’t,” said Nan again, and here she raised her small dimpled hand and gave Mrs Willis a smart slap on her cheek.
“Naughty lady, me don’t like ’oo; go ’way. Nan want Annie—Nan do want Annie. Me don’t love ’oo, naughty lady; go ’way.”