“I keen—oo king!” she said.
Harriet stood by restlessly. How contemptible it all was! Those silly little children, that tiresome Miss Ford, the empty house, the empty gardens, and the pleasure party far away—the pleasure party with some of its members laughing in their sleeves at her! Yes, she knew that fact quite well. That detestable little Jane was laughing. She saw the laughter hidden behind her smug face. And that horrid Vivian, she was all one giggle, and last, but not least, there was the detestable Robina—on this day of all days to laugh at Harriet seemed the final straw! She had had her great moment of victory; she had proved to Robina that she was the favourite—was the chosen one, was the beloved of the little boy about whom the school chose to make such a fuss. But oh, dear! there was reaction after triumph, and this reaction took place when Harriet found what were the duties imposed upon her by motherhood. She must take care of her little boy while the others went out a-pleasuring.
By this time, however, Ralph had forgotten all about her. He and Curly Pate had gone away to a little distance. Curly Pate was on her knees picking daisies, and Ralph was standing over her, after the fashion of kings when they choose to govern their queens and give directions.
“Longer stems, Curly; bigger flowers, Curly. Oh, you silly! not that one—that one with the red all round, it’s broader. Now, then—I’ll show you how to pick them.”
“Peese, king! peese!” replied the impatient queen.
Harriet was not interested in the small children, and just at that moment something occurred.
A girl from the neighbourhood, of the name of Pattie Pyke, was seen walking down the avenue. She was the doctor’s daughter, and was the only girl who was ever allowed to come to the school to take lessons. She joined the third form twice a week for German lessons, but was never with them during recreation. In consequence, she was scarcely counted at all in the school life. Harriet and she, however, had managed to take up a sort of acquaintanceship which never until this moment had developed into friendship. Pattie was a plain girl, large for her age, stoutly built, and with a face covered with freckles. She had small blue eyes and a snub nose. Her hair was somewhat inclined to be carroty, and she had white eyelashes and eyebrows. Notwithstanding this, she was a pleasant girl enough, and had plenty of ability.
“Hallo!” she said now, when she saw Harriet. “Why, I thought, of course, you’d be off to the picnic!”
“Well, I’m not, you see,” answered Harriet ungraciously; “I am here.”
Pattie drew nigh. The real desire of her life was to make friends with one of the school-girls. She was always imploring her father to send her to the school as a boarder, but hitherto he had been deaf to her entreaties.