“I won’t give in to such rubbish,” she said. “I don’t want to go along hand-in-hand like two silly babies. If it was worth the trouble I’d climb up to the top of the stone and go home the proper way.”
This was all boasting. She knew quite well she could not possibly climb up the stone. But she walked on a few steps in sulky dignity. Suddenly she gave a little cry, slipped, and fell.
“Oh, I’ve hurt my ankle!” she exclaimed. “This horrid white gravel is so slippery.”
Mavis was beside her almost before she had said the words, and with her sister’s help Ruby got on to her feet again, though looking rather doleful.
“I believe it’s all a trick of that horrid boy’s,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t made me come to see that dirty old cottage, Mavis.”
Mavis stared.
“Me make you come, Ruby?” she said. “Why, it was yourself.”
“Well, you didn’t stop it, any way,” said Ruby, “and you seem to have taken such a fancy to that boy and his grandfather, and—”
“Ruby, we must go home,” said Mavis. “Try if you can get along.”
They were “hand-in-hand.” There was no help for it now. Ruby tried to walk; to her surprise her ankle scarcely hurt her, and after a moment or two she even began urging Mavis to go faster.