Harriet was near enough to hear the words. Angry already, and disliking Curly Pate more than words could say, she rushed up to her now, seized her by the waist, and planted her several feet away from the pond.
“There, you naughty, disobedient little thing!” she said. “You’ll be drowned if you don’t take care!”
Curly Pate burst into roars of tears, and set to work screaming as she alone knew how. Ralph, furious at having his queen abused, turned to Harriet and began to beat her.
“Go away, go away!” he said. “You’re not a bit a nice girl. Go away, you horrid thing!”
“Horrid thing yourself!” said Harriet and she slapped Ralph across the face.
Little Ralph Durrant was much too proud to cry; the slap stung him, and the little olive-tinted face grew red. After a minute, during which he was struggling with himself, he turned towards Harriet and said gently:
“’Twasn’t ladylike of you to slap me, but I forgive you.”
“Oh, your Mightiness! Do you, indeed?” said Harriet. “I am sure, your Majesty, I am exceedingly obliged.”
The scornful tone was quite new to little Ralph. What would have happened next is hard to tell, if at that moment Robina had not rushed up.
“Well, Curly,” she said; “well, my little precious! Why, what are you crying about? And Ralph, dear, is anything the matter with you?”