"Suppose you couldn't?"
"Couldn't! That's not the way for a mother to talk."
"Excuse me, Martha," said Mrs. Fleetwood, rising. "I would rather not hear such remarks from you, and now repeat what I have before said, more than once, that I wish you to leave me free to do what I think right in my own family; as I undoubtedly will leave you free, if ever you should have one."
And Mrs. Fleetwood left the room, and taking the little girl who was crying at the door by the hand, led her up stairs.
"What is the matter, Ellen?" she asked as calmly and as soothingly as the irritating nature of Ellen's peculiar cry or whine would permit her.
"Earnest won't play with me," replied the child, still crying.
"Come up into my room, and see if there isn't something pretty there to play with."
"No—I don't want to," was the crying answer.
"Yes; come." And Mrs. Fleetwood led along the resisting child.
"No—no—no—I don't want to go. I want Earnest to play with me."