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The Little house
Butastheshadesofnightfell,Tony,theswaggerer,losthiscontemptforMaimieandeyedherfearfully;andnowonder,forwithdarktherecameintoherfacealookthatIcandescribeonlyasalearylook.ItwasalsoaserenelookthatcontrastedgrandlywithTony’suneasyglances.Thenhewouldmakeherpresentsofhisfavouritetoys(whichhealwaystookawayfromhernextmorning),andsheacceptedthemwithadisturbingsmile.Thereasonhewasnowbecomesowheedlingandshesomysteriouswas(inbrief)thattheyknewtheywereabouttobesenttobed.ItwasthenthatMaimiewasterrible.Tonyentreatedhernottodoitto-night,andthemotherandtheircolourednursethreatenedher,butMaimiemerelysmiledheragitatingsmile.Andbyandbywhentheywerealonewiththeirnight-lightshewouldstartupinbedcrying’Hsh!whatwasthat?’Tonybeseechesher,’Itwasnothing—don’t,Maimie,don’t’andpullsthesheetoverhishead.’Itiscomingnearer!’shecries.’Oh,lookatit,Tony!Itisfeelingyourbedwithitshorns—itisboringforyou,OTony,oh!’andshedesistsnotuntilherushesdownstairsinhiscombinations,screeching.WhentheycameuptowhipMaimietheyusuallyfoundhersleepingtranquilly—notshamming,youknow,butreallysleeping,andlookinglikethesweetestlittleangel,whichseemstometomakeitalmostworse.
ButofcourseitwasdaytimewhentheywereintheGardens,andthenTonydidmostofthetalking.Youcouldgatherfromhistalkthathewasaverybraveboy,andnoonewassoproudofitasMaimie.Shewouldhavelovedtohaveaticketonhersayingthatshewashissister.Andatnotimedidsheadmirehimmorethanwhenhetoldher,asheoftendidwithsplendidfirmness,thatonedayhemeanttoremainbehindintheGardensafterthegateswereclosed.
’OTony,’shewouldsaywithawfulrespect,’butthefairieswillbesoangry!’
’Idaresay,’repliedTonycarelessly.
