"Weaving posies, little ladies?"
"Not for rebels," replied Lucy, pertly.
"May I not have one poor daisy?"
"Not one; the daisy is a royal flower."
"If I take one?"
"Rebels take what they can't get fairly," said Lucy, with the
smartness of a forward child; and Sylvester, laughing heartily,
continued, "What would General Cromwell say to such a nest of little
malignants?"
"That is an ugly name," said Eleanor.
"Quite as pretty as Roundhead."
"Yes, but we don't deserve it."
"Not when you make that pretty face so sour?"
"Ah!" interposed Lucy, "she is sour because I won't tell her my
secret of the pie."
"Oh, what?" said Eleanor.
"Now I have you!" cried Lucy, delighted. "I know what became of the
pigeon pie."
In extreme alarm and anger, Walter turned round as he caught these
words. "Lucy, naughty child!" he began, in a voice of thunder; then,
recollecting the danger of exciting further suspicion, he stammered,
"what--what--what--are you doing here? Go along to mother."
Lucy rubbed her fingers into her eyes, and answered sharply, in a
pettish tone, that she was doing no harm. Eleanor, in amazement,
asked what could be the matter.
"Intolerable!" exclaimed Walter. "So many girls always in the way?"
Sylvester Enderby could not help smiling, as he asked, "Is that all
you have to complain of?"
"I could complain of something much worse," muttered Walter.
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