“Why don’t you make her behave, Miss Wilder?”
“I do my best, Mrs. Bryce, but she is very difficult,” the older woman sighed.
“Of course she’s difficult—she’s a brat! But that is what I have you for, to teach her some manners, and make her act like a civilized being. Where is she?”
“She ran away when I tried to put her dress on her.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“I thought you might order her to get dressed.”
“Much good it would do! I don’t see why I have to be bothered with it. I didn’t want the party; it’s a perfect nuisance, cluttering up the place with noisy kids; but she owes it to them, and she has to have them here once a season.”
A small, determined figure appeared at the door, in a brief petticoat and socks.
“I won’t go to that party,” she announced.
“Come here to me this instant,” exploded her mother at sight of her.