"Oh—yes—I—see," answered the child, drawling the words out in surprised tones.
Here was a puzzle. This new governess seemed to think she couldn't behave rudely—because—because she was a lady! It was awkward; she hadn't thought of it like that before. It looked as if the fun was going to be spoilt. A puzzled expression of disappointment clouded her face for a moment, but in an instant it lighted with an illuminating flash, as a thought rushed to her mind. "I wonder what she'll think on Saturday?"
She was an interesting looking child, but she had none of her mother's beauty, the brilliant brunette which had so struck Miss Woodford. Ellice was a fairy-looking little creature, with dancing blue eyes, tiny features, and tumbled ringlets. She certainly looked like an elf from the woods as she stood with the front of her dress caught up in one hand, and filled with wild roses, tufts of yellow vetch, scabious, bundles of dainty milkmaids which she had dragged from the nettle-beds, regardless of their stings, and sweet clumps of wild parsley—all in mingled profusion, while she carelessly swung a straw hat by a broken elastic, the blue ribbon of which was stained with cherry juice that matched the dye on her fingers.
"You have spoilt your hat trimming," said Miss Woodford, taking the article (which evidently received little respect) from the small owner.
"I did that jumping under the trees to get at the waterloos. I had a feast, but ever so many tumbled on to me."
"Well, now are you ready for breakfast?"
"I'm not very hungry. James—James," shrilled the child, "bring me some cake and milk—and be quick!"
"Better have your egg, missy," answered the man.
"No, I won't! Cake—cake—cake——"
"But the master said you must have your proper meal, Miss Ellice."