'You won't bring me round, so don't think it,' said Hollyhock.
But Mrs Constable, taking no notice of these words, motioned to the other four Flower Girls to leave the room. She then proceeded to make up the fire brightly and to straighten Hollyhock's disordered bed.
'Now, my child, what 's wrong with you?' she said in that voice so melting and so sweet that few could resist it.
'Oh, Aunt Cecil, I'm so unhappy—I'm alone. I have no one to love me now but Jean.'
'Poor little Jean! She seems very happy,' said Mrs Constable; 'but I'm afraid she'll make dirty marks on your white counterpane, child.'
'As if I cared. I'd stand more than that for love.'
'Now, Hollyhock,' replied Mrs Constable, 'I must get to the bottom of this. You are my own dear little girl, remember, and I must find out whether you are ill or not.'
'Of course I 'm ill; that is, I 'm a little ill.'
'I have a thermometer with me. I'll take your temperature,' said Mrs Constable.
'Auntie, I would so much rather you didn't.'