“Pretty yady, pretty yady!”
Suddenly the door unclosed, admitting Mrs. Wylde, the stately matron, and her handsome daughter, Rosalind. They frowned at sight of the pretty child, and, after exchanging greetings with their guests, Rosalind exclaimed sharply:
“What are you doing here, Pet? Get down this instant, and go away.”
But, to her astonishment, the little one clung to Pansy, and cried out rebelliously:
“No, no, me stay ’ith pretty yady!”
“The little monkey! He never offered to disobey me before,” exclaimed Rosalind, frowning, and she removed him by force from Pansy’s lap, for he screamed and struggled to stay.
“Oh, please let me keep him. I love children!” exclaimed Pansy pleadingly; but just here Mrs. Wylde chimed in:
“You do not quite understand, Mrs. Falconer. The child belongs to my housekeeper, who adopted him in infancy. She has her orders to keep him in her own part of the house, but occasionally he slips away and intrudes upon us, although this is the first time he has ever ventured into the drawing-room.”
“It was my fault. I called him in when I saw him peeping in at the door. He was such a lovely little child, and I thought he belonged to you,” said Pansy, as her yearning eyes followed Rosalind, who was leading the sobbing child from the room.
“He is a very pretty child, and usually a very good-tempered, affectionate one,” Mrs. Wylde acknowledged. “This is the first time I ever saw him display any temper. Indeed, I have felt myself on the verge of falling in love with the little creature often, only I would not allow myself to do so, being convinced that he must be a child of shame.”