Dunlop began to scream again.
Martha spoke hastily. "If you'll hush, I'll ask her to tell you the
story. If you scream, Master Dunlop, your mother'll call you in and
she'll make you take a spoonful of that bitter stuff."
"You call that girl, then," he commanded.
Martha raised her voice. "Little girl, oh, little girl!--I don't know
your name. Please come back."
Anne paused, but did not turn her head.
"This little boy has been ill," Martha continued. "He's just getting
over fever. And he's notiony. Won't you please tell that story to him?"
Anne walked slowly back. "I do not mind telling him the story," she
answered with grave dignity. "I'm always telling stories to the girls.
But he must ask me proper. I don't 'low for to be spoken to that way."
"Martha said 'please' to you," mumbled Dunlop, digging his toe in the
turf.
"You want me to tell the story," said Anne.
There was a brief silence.
"I'll cry," he threatened.
"I don't have to keep you from crying," said Anne, with spirit. "Come
on, Honey-Sweet."
"Please, you little girl," said Dunlop, hastily.
"And the princess walked on and on," continued Anne, as if the story had
not been interrupted.
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