Part 16 (1/2)

”I won't go! I won't go a bit!” cried Bunny, stamping her foot angrily. ”The sun will dry me in a minute, and I won't go with you; so there!”

”Come along, Bunny, like a good girl,” said Mervyn, ”let us run fast and see who will get up to the nursery first,” and away he went up the path as fast as he could.

”I won't go, Sophie. I want to stay with Frank,” cried Bunny once more, as she caught the boy's hand and held on to it tightly.

”You ought to go, dear, indeed you ought,” said Frank. ”See, Mervyn has gone, and you know you should always do what Sophie tells you.”

”No, I won't; she's a nasty thing! and it's twice as nice out here, so I won't go one bit.”

”Your mama and Miss Kerr have returned to the house, and you must come in and get changed your dress, mademoiselle.”

”I won't! I won't,” shrieked Bunny, clinging more closely to Frank, and turning her back upon her nurse in a most impertinent manner.

”We shall see if you do not, you bad, naughty child,” cried Sophie in an angry voice, and running forward she seized the little girl in her arms, and carried her off screaming and kicking into the house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Chapter decoration.]

CHAPTER XII.

THE FIREWORKS.

A little before seven o'clock that evening the children stood at the drawing-room window. All traces of the recent struggle in the garden had been removed, and in the neat little girl in the dainty cream lace and muslin frock, with its fluttering pink ribbons, few persons would have recognized the small fury that Sophie had carried off wriggling and crying to the nursery a few hours before.

But Miss Bunny had already forgotten that such a scene had ever taken place, and was making very merry over a big blue-bottle fly that she and Mervyn were doing their best to catch as it walked up and down the window-pane.

Frank Collins sat at the piano playing some very lively tunes, and from time to time Bunny would pause in her pursuit of the fly and dance lightly over the floor in time to the music.

”Papa, papa,” she cried, as Mr. Dashwood entered the room with his wife upon his arm, ”doesn't Frank make lovely tunes?”

”I don't know, dear,” answered her father. ”Frank does not seem anxious to let me hear his music, for he has stopped short the moment I appeared.”

”I am afraid Mrs. Dashwood would not care for my music,” answered Frank modestly. ”I only play from ear.”

”Oh, Frank, how can you say such a thing!” cried Bunny indignantly.

”Why, mama, he plays just like Miss Kerr does. He plays away up in the treble with two hands, and then he plays pum, pum, pum away down in the ba.s.s; oh, it is most beautiful! Do play again, Frank.”

”No, dear, not now,” said Frank. ”I'll play for you another time, but don't ask me now;” and he hopped the little girl up on his knee.

”Well, then, ask--you know what,” whispered Bunny mysteriously.

”You know you said you would--you promised.”

”Oh, yes, of course; I very nearly forgot,” said Frank, ”and I suppose Sophie will soon be carrying you off to bed, it's nearly half-past seven.”

”Yes, she will, unless you ask that, and papa and mama say, Yes.”

”Mrs. Dashwood,” said Frank, ”it's a gala night, as they call it, on the Spa, and there are to be fireworks, so will you let these little people stay up for them? Please do.”

”What! to go out in the night air and into the crowd?” asked Mrs.