Polly took to her heels, and Firefly stood for a moment or two looking utterly miserable and irresolute on the wide gravel walk in the center of the flower-garden. She felt very much inclined to stamp her feet and to screw up her thin little face into contortions of rage. Even very little girls, however, won’t go into paroxysms of anger when there is no one there to see. Firefly’s heart was very sore, for Polly, her idol, had spoken to her almost roughly.
“I wish mother wasn’t in heaven,” she murmured in a grieved little voice, and then she turned and walked back to the house. The nearer she approached the study window the faster grew her footsteps. At last, like a little torrent, she vaulted back into the room, and flung her arms noisily round Helen’s neck.
“I’ll obey you, darling Nell,” she said. “I’d much rather have you than Miss Jenkins.”
And then she sobbed aloud, and really shook herself, for she felt still so angry with Polly.
“That’s a good little Fly,” said Helen, kissing her affectionately in return, and putting her arm round her waist, so as to establish her comfortably on her knee. The other girls were all lying about in different easy attitudes, and Firefly joined in the general talk, and found herself much comforted.
CHAPTER V.
A SAFETY-VALVE.
“Fly caved in, didn’t she?” said Polly to her eldest sister that night.