"Oh, I declare, the little dear is huffed about something! Well, then, I'll tell. I'll be fifteen in exactly a month from now! What do you say to that? I'm well grown, am I not, Janet?""You deny that she's weak," repeated Janet. "I wonder what your idea of strength is, Olive.""As I was saying," began Janet——
"Yes, certainly. Let me introduce you to someone in particular. Janet May, come here, my dear."
"How do you do, Mrs. Freeman?" said Bridget. "I'm afraid I'm a little late; I overslept myself, and then I could not find the right belt for this dress—it ought to be pale blue to match the ribbons, ought it not? But as I could not lay my hand on it, I have put on this silver girdle instead. Look at it, is it not pretty? It is real solid silver, I assure you; Uncle Jack brought it me from Syria, and the workmanship is supposed to be very curious. It's a trifle heavy, of course, but it keeps my dress nice and tight, don't you think so?"Bridget slipped her hand into her pocket, and pulled out an exquisitely embossed vinaigrette.
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The child's words were almost incoherent. Alice, who was not quite so excitable, began to pour out a queer story.
"I can't eat, Marshall," she said. "I'm treated shamefully, and the very nicest dinner wouldn't tempt me. You can take it away, for I can't possibly touch a morsel. Oh, dear! oh, dear! how I do wish I were at home again! What a horrid, horrid sort of place school is!"
She used this tongue most frequently on Bridget O'Hara, but for the first time she was met by a wondering, puzzled, good-humored, and non-comprehending gaze.
"No. You are to take off that unsuitable afternoon costume you are now wearing, and put on a neat print dress for your morning work."