old
stepfather
moving in here and changing everything?"
The others looked surprised at this, but not really terribly shocked.
"I should think he might make kind of an ideal one," said Katharine.
"It's good for a growing boy, having a man around the house," said Mark.
"I've always wished I had a father," said Martha.
Jane began to storm. "Do you really think he could ever take Father's place? Him and his old beard! Don't you know what stepfathers always turn out to be like, once the fatal deed is done? Don't you remember Mr. Murdstone? Oh!" she cried, glaring round at them all. "It's no use! You don't understand! I wish..."
She broke off in alarm, remembering the charm. Then, a prey to utter recklessness, she plunged her hand into her pocket, grasped the charm firmly, and went on. "Yes, I do! I wish I belonged to some other family! I wish it twice!"
Mark and Katharine and Martha gasped. This was the worst thing that had happened yet. They hardly dared look at Jane, for fear she might start turning into someone else before their eyes.
But when they did look, there stood the same brown-haired, blue-eyed, snub-nosed Jane they had grown to know and love through the years. Nothing seemed to have happened. Maybe nothing had. Mark decided to find out.
"Look here, old Jane-ice," he said, putting his hand on her arm and using a pet name that was reserved for unusual serious moments. "You didn't mean it, did you?"
"You let me go, you bully!" remarked a prim, lady-like voice none of the children had ever heard before in their lives. "You horrid big boy! I don't like boys! And I don't like
you!
"
"Oh!" cried Martha, turning pale. "She doesn't know us!"
"Of course she does," said Katharine. "You know
me,
don't you, dear? Kathie, that you've been through thick and thin with?"
"No. I don't know you and I don't wish to. Your frock is soiled," said the voice that, to their horror, seemed to be coming out of Jane. "My mama told me never to play with strange children."
Martha began to sniff.
"What an insanitary little girl," said the voice. "Tell her to use a handkerchief. She'll give me a germ."
"Oh, what's the matter with her?" Martha's voice rose to a wail.
"It's not her fault," Katharine said, trying to be reassuring for Martha's sake. "It's the way she's been brought up, I suppose. By that other family she belongs to, now. It
does
show what a good influence we've been, doesn't it? She was lots nicer under our tender care."
"I don't believe it," said Mark. "She's just trying to fool us, aren't you, Jane-ice?"
"Don't call me that," said the voice. "That's not my name."
"All right, then," said Mark, turning on her suddenly. "If that isn't your name, what is?"
The strange girl who looked like Jane, yet was Jane no longer, seemed startled for a moment, as if she weren't quite sure of the answer. Then her face cleared.
"My mother calls me her Little Comfort," she said.
Mark made a gagging noise.
Katharine looked disgusted. "To think one of us should have come to this!" she mourned.
"It would be an errand of mercy to put the poor thing out of her misery," Mark agreed.
She-who-was-no-longer-Jane was staring around the room.
"I don't like this house," she said. "The furnishings are in poor taste. It is gaudy." Her lower lip began to tremble. "I want to go home."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Mark. "Well, I can fix that. No sooner said than done." And he made a dive for the pocket where he knew the charm lay concealed.
But She (who was no longer Jane) pulled away, and gave him a surprisingly hard slap for such a miminy-piminy, ladylike type.
"Take that!" she cried. "You are a thief, as well as a bully!" She glared round at them all. "You are a lot of badly-brought-up children. You kidnapped me, and then tried to rob me. I'm going to tell my mother!"
And with these words, she flounced out into the hall and started down the stairs. By the time the others had recovered from their shock and dashed after her, she was in the act
stepfather
moving in here and changing everything?"
The others looked surprised at this, but not really terribly shocked.
"I should think he might make kind of an ideal one," said Katharine.
"It's good for a growing boy, having a man around the house," said Mark.
"I've always wished I had a father," said Martha.
Jane began to storm. "Do you really think he could ever take Father's place? Him and his old beard! Don't you know what stepfathers always turn out to be like, once the fatal deed is done? Don't you remember Mr. Murdstone? Oh!" she cried, glaring round at them all. "It's no use! You don't understand! I wish..."
She broke off in alarm, remembering the charm. Then, a prey to utter recklessness, she plunged her hand into her pocket, grasped the charm firmly, and went on. "Yes, I do! I wish I belonged to some other family! I wish it twice!"
Mark and Katharine and Martha gasped. This was the worst thing that had happened yet. They hardly dared look at Jane, for fear she might start turning into someone else before their eyes.
But when they did look, there stood the same brown-haired, blue-eyed, snub-nosed Jane they had grown to know and love through the years. Nothing seemed to have happened. Maybe nothing had. Mark decided to find out.
"Look here, old Jane-ice," he said, putting his hand on her arm and using a pet name that was reserved for unusual serious moments. "You didn't mean it, did you?"
"You let me go, you bully!" remarked a prim, lady-like voice none of the children had ever heard before in their lives. "You horrid big boy! I don't like boys! And I don't like
you!
"
"Oh!" cried Martha, turning pale. "She doesn't know us!"
"Of course she does," said Katharine. "You know
me,
don't you, dear? Kathie, that you've been through thick and thin with?"
"No. I don't know you and I don't wish to. Your frock is soiled," said the voice that, to their horror, seemed to be coming out of Jane. "My mama told me never to play with strange children."
Martha began to sniff.
"What an insanitary little girl," said the voice. "Tell her to use a handkerchief. She'll give me a germ."
"Oh, what's the matter with her?" Martha's voice rose to a wail.
"It's not her fault," Katharine said, trying to be reassuring for Martha's sake. "It's the way she's been brought up, I suppose. By that other family she belongs to, now. It
does
show what a good influence we've been, doesn't it? She was lots nicer under our tender care."
"I don't believe it," said Mark. "She's just trying to fool us, aren't you, Jane-ice?"
"Don't call me that," said the voice. "That's not my name."
"All right, then," said Mark, turning on her suddenly. "If that isn't your name, what is?"
The strange girl who looked like Jane, yet was Jane no longer, seemed startled for a moment, as if she weren't quite sure of the answer. Then her face cleared.
"My mother calls me her Little Comfort," she said.
Mark made a gagging noise.
Katharine looked disgusted. "To think one of us should have come to this!" she mourned.
"It would be an errand of mercy to put the poor thing out of her misery," Mark agreed.
She-who-was-no-longer-Jane was staring around the room.
"I don't like this house," she said. "The furnishings are in poor taste. It is gaudy." Her lower lip began to tremble. "I want to go home."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Mark. "Well, I can fix that. No sooner said than done." And he made a dive for the pocket where he knew the charm lay concealed.
But She (who was no longer Jane) pulled away, and gave him a surprisingly hard slap for such a miminy-piminy, ladylike type.
"Take that!" she cried. "You are a thief, as well as a bully!" She glared round at them all. "You are a lot of badly-brought-up children. You kidnapped me, and then tried to rob me. I'm going to tell my mother!"
And with these words, she flounced out into the hall and started down the stairs. By the time the others had recovered from their shock and dashed after her, she was in the act
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