"I dipped her sponge in the jug, and squeezed it on her feet. She's very cross."
"I daresay she is. You're an ingenious little torturer, Sheila Pat."
Presently a wild-haired Molly burst into the room.
"Oh, Nell, I can't find any hair-ribbons, and my comb has tumbled down—I stuck it in the window to stop it rattling, and it's tumbled out—"
Nell interrupted, "Here's a comb and here's a ribbon."
"And Sheila Pat's made my bed all wet!"
"Hurry up! You've only three minutes, and you were late down yesterday, you know."
"Oh, Nell, do wait for me! I simply can't come into that room with Aunt Kezia's eye on me and grim silence!"
Sheila Pat had shut the door on her.
After breakfast the fog deepened, yellowed; Nell, with her mouth set obstinately, got out her canvas and brushes, and began to paint.