Chrissie Fortescue sat looking at her toes. They were pretty little toes, pink and plump and even. But she was not looking at them in admiration. And indeed this morning they were scarcely as pretty as usual, for they were rapidly becoming blue and crimson, instead of merely pink, and though blue and crimson are charming colours in themselves, they are not seen to advantage on toes.
It was wintry weather, as you will already, I daresay, have guessed, and very cold indeed, and as the unpleasant consciousness of this made itself felt more and more plainly, Chrissie’s face grew crosser and crosser.
“Nurse,” she called out, and it was the third or fourth time that she had done so, “Nurse, will you come and put on my stockings? I am getting quite frozen.”
There was no answer for a moment or two, then Nurse’s face appeared at the door leading from, the little girls’ room into the large day nursery, where the table was already neatly spread for breakfast and a bright fire blazing.
“Miss Chrissie,” said Nurse, remaining in the doorway, “it is no use—no use whatever your going on calling to me like that. I have told you ever so many times this morning that I won’t and can’t put on your stockings for you. I promised your Mamma before she went away yesterday that I would not, and I cannot break my promise.”
“I can’t either,” was Chrissie’s reply, “and I’ve promised myself that I won’t put them on this morning, so there you see.”
Nurse turned away with a sort of groan.
“Oh dear,” she said, “it is really too bad of you. A young lady of ten behaving like a baby. I’ll come at once when you’re ready for me to do your hair, but not before. How can you behave so, and trouble in the house, too? Breakfast will be up directly, and Master Jasper all ready, and—” poor Nurse stopped short as she caught sight of another figure in the room. “Miss Leila,” she exclaimed, “what are you thinking of? Reading again before you’ve finished dressing! I heard your Mamma—”
“Oh bother, Nurse,” interrupted Leila, “I didn’t promise anything, so leave me alone, please. If I choose to read while I’m dressing, it’s my own business.”
Apparently poor Nurse was at the end of her patience, for she disappeared into the other room, repeating reproachfully, “and trouble in the house, too.”
“Rubbish,” said Chrissie contemptuously.
“There’s no trouble in this house. I didn’t care much for old Uncle Percy. Did you, Leila? He’s been ill such a long time, and last summer at Fareham it was horrid having to be so quiet.”
“I don’t mind being quiet if people will leave me in peace,” replied Leila.
“No, I daresay not, with your everlasting books,” Chrissie retorted; “but for all that, you needn’t think yourself any better than me. You like books and I like playing, and we both like to do what we like and not what we don’t, and I suppose that’s about all that can be said,” and she began swinging her feet defiantly.
Leila, who was getting to think that after all it would be more comfortable to read beside the nursery fire, gave a little laugh, as she hurried on with her own dressing.
“Tastes differ,” she remarked; “I shouldn’t like to sit there in the cold with no shoes or stockings on. I’m going to coax Nurse to tie up my hair in there by the fire. It is cold this morning.”
...