"So you belong to him, do you?" said the girl, in an insolent tone of voice. "Ha! ha! ha!"
"What are you laughing at?" said Gerty, fiercely.
"Ugh! Before I'd live with him!" said the girl—"Old Smutty!"
The others caught it up, and the laugh and epithet Old Smutty circulated freely in the corner of the yard where Gerty was standing. Gerty was furious. Her eyes glistened, she doubled her little fist, and, without hesitation, came down in battle upon the crowd. But they were too many for her, and, helpless as she was with passion, they drove her out of the yard. She started for home on a full run, screaming with all her might.
As she flew along the side-walk, she brushed stiffly against a tall, stiff-looking lady, who was walking slowly in the same direction, with a much smaller person leaning on her arm. "Bless me!" said the tall lady, who had almost lost her equilibrium from the suddenness of the shock. "Why, you horrid little creature!" As she spoke, she grasped Gerty by the shoulder, and, before she could break away, gave her a slight shake. This served to increase Gerty's anger, and, her speed gaining in proportion, it was but a few minutes before she was crouched in a corner of True's room behind the bed, her face to the wall, and covered with both her hands. Here she was free to cry as loud as she pleased; for Mrs. Sullivan was gone out, and there was no one in the house to hear her.
But she had not indulged long in her tantrum when the gate at the end of the yard closed with a bang, and footsteps were heard coming towards Mr. Flint's door. Gerty's attention was arrested, for she knew by the sound that a stranger was approaching. With a strong effort she controlled herself so as to keep quiet. There was a knock at the door, but Gerty did not reply to it, remaining concealed behind the bed. The knock was not repeated, but the stranger lifted the latch and walked in.
"There doesn't seem to be any one at home," said a female voice, "what a pity."
"Isn't there? I'm sorry," replied another, in the sweet musical tones of Miss Graham. Gerty knew the voice at once.
"I thought you'd better not come here yourself," rejoined the first speaker, who was no other than Mrs. Ellis, the identical lady whom Gerty had so frightened and disconcerted.
"Oh, I don't regret coming," said Emily. "You can leave me here while you go to your sister's, and very likely Mr. Flint or the little girl will come home in the meantime."