“That is not fair,” she exclaimed. “You ought to go and look out for me.”
He refused to do so, and walked away; while Fanny, feeling more angry with him than she had ever before been, went into the house.
“As Norman will not play properly, I must go and amuse myself with Miss Lucy,” she thought.
She entered her room; Miss Lucy was not on her bed, where she was certain she had left her. She hunted about, and then went to Susan to ask if she had taken her.
“I have not even been into your room, Miss Fanny,” answered Susan; “but I suspect, if she has gone, who took her. Just do you go and ask your brother.”
Fanny ran after Norman, and found him in the path leading to their part of the garden.
“Where is my doll?” she inquired.
“What do I know about your doll?” he exclaimed. He was afraid to say that he had not taken her because he remembered the whipping his papa had given him.
“I am sure you have taken her,” exclaimed Fanny; “Susan says so, and told me to ask you.”
“How did she dare to say that?” cried Norman. “You had better look for your doll, and if you find her you will have her again, and if not, you will not be worse off than I am without my football, which I liked just as much as you do your stupid doll.”