"No; me's doin' out; p'ay horse wis Percy," the child returned, with a scowl and a shake of his little shoulders.
Zillah put down her sewing, rose, and went to him. "Come with mamma, pet," she said in coaxing tones, stooping down to caress and fondle him. "Don't you want to go out to the kitchen and see what Celestia Ann is doing?"
"No, me don't; me's doin' out-doors to p'ay horse wis Percy," shouted the child defiantly, quite seeing through the artifice.
Zillah began to grow impatient. "No, you are not," she said peremptorily; "you cannot play out of doors at all to-day, because you have a bad cold, and it would make you sick."
"I will! I will! I will!" screamed the child, stamping his foot at her and clenching his tiny fist. "Ope de door dis minute, naughty mamma. I will doe out p'ay horse."
There was something comical in his baby rage, and unfortunately Zillah could not refrain from laughing, though the other ladies looked on in grave concern.
Her mirth had not a happy effect upon the little rebel. Bursting from her grasp, he ran toward the door just closing on Annis and Percy, screaming at the top of his voice, "Let me doe wis you, Annis! Ope de door," pounding on it with his fists, then taking hold of the knob and trying to turn it for himself.
"You bad boy, I'm ashamed of you," Zillah said, taking his hand, which he instantly snatched away; "stop this screaming, or I'll take you home."
"No; sha'n't doe home. Me's doin' out p'ay horse wis Percy."
"I do believe he's the most persistent child I ever saw or that ever was made!" Zillah exclaimed with angry impatience, apparently addressing the company in general. "I wonder if it would hurt him to go out for a little while if I wrap him up well. Do you think it would, mother?"