He returned to his cowslips.
"Little boy!" said the voice, "please bring me my ball again."
He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; he
laughed too, at that.
"You did it on purpose that time," said he, solemnly.
"La! you don't think I'd be so wicked," said she.
Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at an
end turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, and
nothing of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling with
fun and mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of the
wall.
This being a challenge, Compton said, "Now you come out after that, and
stand a shot, like a man."
The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thing
she put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, the
moment he threw at it.
At this juncture a voice cried, "Ruperta! what are you doing there?"
Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that he
was to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person who
had called her.
It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckoned
him royally to her.
"Little boy," said she, "talk to me."
Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply.
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