'It's beastly of you,' she said.
She scrambled to the ground. The boy got on. He was not content to sit; he stood upright.
'Now, then,' he cried, 'why don't you start me? Don't you see I'm ready?'
'You'll tumble off. Mamma said you weren't to stand.'
'Shall stand. Go and tell! Start me!'
'You will tumble.'
'All right, then, I will tumble. Start me! Don't you hear?'
She 'started' him. The swing having received its initial impetus, he swung himself. He mounted higher and higher. Doris watched him, leaning her right shoulder against the beech tree, her hands behind her back. She interpolated occasional remarks on the risk which he was running.
'You'll fall if you don't take care. You oughtn't to go so high. Mamma said you oughtn't to go so high.'
He received her observations with scorn.