Part 32 (1/2)

Flora turned.

”What is it, Maisie?” she screamed back.

”What am I to do with Miss Wilton? I'm going for a long walk with the Slater girls. She can't possibly go so far, and besides, we don't want children.”

”Isn't f.a.n.n.y here?” screamed back Flora.

”Yes, and Tootsie.”

”Well, let her stay with f.a.n.n.y and Tootsie for a bit.”

Flora turned and walked down the hill rapidly with her companion.

Maisie caught hold of Ermengarde's hand, and began to run with her under the trees.

Presently she came across a stout little girl of about eleven, accompanied by a stouter little boy who might be a year older.

”f.a.n.n.y,” said Maisie, ”this child's name is Wilton. She'll stay and play with you and Tootsie for a bit. Now be good children, all of you.

Ta-ta! I'll be back in time for tea.”

Maisie vanished round a corner, and Ermengarde found herself alone with f.a.n.n.y and Tootsie.

CHAPTER XIX.

SOME PEOPLE WHO DID NOT FLATTER.

They were not an agreeable-looking pair; they had evidently been dining, and their faces were sticky. They had also been quarreling, for they cast scowling glances at each other, and were in far too bad a temper to be civil to the newcomer.

”I don't want her to play with us,” said Tootsie, and he half turned his back.

”I'm sure then she shan't play with me,” said f.a.n.n.y. ”I don't wish to play with anyone, I'm sick of play. It's just like that horrid Maisie.”

”She isn't a bit more horrid than you and Tootsie!” suddenly remarked Ermengarde, finding her voice, and speaking with what seemed to the two children slow and biting emphasis. ”You're all horrid together; I never met such horrid people. You are none of you ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn't play with you for the world! Good-by; I'm going home.”

Ermengarde turned her back, and began to walk rapidly away from the picnic party. Whether she would have succeeded in finding her way back to Glendower remains a mystery, for she had not gone a dozen yards before she encountered a stout old lady, who spread out her arms as she approached, and made herself look like a great fan.

”Whither away, now, little maid of the woods?” she said. ”Oh, I suppose you are the little girl called Wilton, whom Florrie brought over from Glendower with her. Maisie told me of you.”

”I'm going home; please let me pa.s.s,” said Ermengarde.

”Oh, highty-tighty! not a bit of you, dearie. You'll stay here till Florrie wants to go back. You'd get her into no end of a sc.r.a.pe if you were to leave her now. You must stick to her, my love. It would be unkind to desert poor Florrie in that fas.h.i.+on. I thought Maisie had left you with f.a.n.n.y and Tootsie.”

”Yes, but they are horrid rude children. I could not possibly play with them.”

”Well, they are handfuls,” said the stout lady. ”I'm their mother, so I ought to know. You don't mind staying with me, then, love, do you?”

”I'd much rather go home,” repeated Ermengarde.

”But you can't do that, my dear child, so there's no use thinking about it. Come, let us walk about and be cozy, and you tell me all about Glendower.”