“Nawhere,” said Bessie, who, as usual, had her pinafore in her mouth, and never said more than one word at a time if she could help it.
“Nowhere! what do you do all the morning, Bessie?”
“I doan’t know,” said Bessie, gravely looking up at her; “sometimes I mind the baby.”
“Do you mind the baby, too? Dear, dear! And what does Charlie do?”
“Nawthing,” said Bessie again. “He only makes himself dirty.”
“Don’t you go to school ever?”
“No, but mother’s going to send us,” said Bessie, whose big eyes grew round and frightened at the idea, as if it was a dreadful prospect. “Are you going to be away for all day?”
“Yes; we shan’t be back till quite evening, mother says. Here she is. Good-bye, Bessie; good-bye, Charlie. Will you come and play with us to-morrow morning?”
Bessie nodded, but Charlie ran off without answering; for he saw Olly coming, and was afraid he might want to kiss him. On the other side of the gate they had to begin to climb up a steep bit of soft green grass; and very hard work it was. After quite a little way the children began to puff and pant like two little steam engines.
“It is a little bit like going upstairs, don’t you think, Olly?” said Milly, sitting down by her mother on a flat bit of gray stone.