The question was directed to Betty, whose lips were moving.
She shook her head, and sighed drearily, for she had entered into the very being of the little beggar girl who sang for a penny.
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing you'd understand. Don't chatter."
"Don't be so silly," said Cyril. "I'm as old as you, any way."
"Mother says I'm an hour older than you," said Betty.
"That's nothing," said Cyril.
"You can learn a lot in an hour," quoth Betty, and bent her attention to her strip of paper.
"I told mother about the dirty plates, so there," said the boy. "And——"
"Bah!" said Betty, and pushed her fingers into her ears.
Betty had several plans for waking early, amongst which may be named—putting marbles in her bed that in rolling unconsciously about for comfort she might be awakened by the discomfort. That had answered very well once or twice. Another was to place her pillow half-way down the bed, that she might be within reach of the foot of it—and then to rest her own foot on a lower rail and tie it there. Another was to prop herself into a sitting position and fold her hands across her chest, that by sleeping badly she might not sleep long.