"Well," said Mamma, "she won't be frightened any more. He'll not ask
you again."

"We don't care. He's not a bit of good. He won't let us ride his horses
or climb his trees or fish in his stinking pond."

"Let Mary go there," said Dank. "_She_ likes it. She kisses Pidgeon."

"I don't," she cried. "I hate Pidgeon. I hate Uncle Edward and Aunt
Bella. I hate Mrs. Fisher."

Mamma looked up from her flower-pot, and, suddenly, she was angry.

"For shame! They're kind to _you_," she said. "You little naughty,
ungrateful girl."

"They're _not_ kind to Mark and Dank. That's why I hate them."

She wondered why Mamma was not angry with Mark and Dank, who had let
Ponto loose and frightened Aunt Bella.




IV


I.

That year when Christmas came Papa gave her a red book with a gold