"Gran." The girl, at that, tried to fold up her arms in the remains of her sleeves. But Polly saw the long, red welts that were not pleasant to look at. She gave a little shiver, but held on firmly to the tattered ends.
"Oh, make her stay," cried Phronsie; "I want her to play with me. I'll let you take Clorinda again, and she shall be your child," she stood up on tiptoe to say.
"Can't," said the girl, making a desperate effort to twitch away. "Lemme go."
"No, you cannot go until you have told me who you are, and how you know my little sister."
Rag looked into the brown eyes of the little girl not so much older, drew a long breath, then burst out, "She's visited me to my house," and, putting on the most defiant expression possible, stood quite still.
"Visited you at your house!" echoed Polly. She nearly dropped the ragged sleeve.
"Yes, an' I give her a five-o'clock tea," said Rag proudly. "Any harm in that? An' I brung her home again, and she ain't hurt a bit. You lemme go, you girl, you!"
"You must come and see Grandpapa," said Polly firmly, a little white line around her mouth.
"I ain't a-goin'." Rag showed instant fight against any such idea.
"Then, if you don't," said Polly, gripping her arm, "I shall call the gardeners, and they will bring you up to the house."