The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot Page A

been a-doing? I
never
see
such a fright!"
    "Don't, Kezia," said Maggie, angrily. "Go away!"
    "But I tell you you're to come down, Miss, this minute; your
mother says so," said Kezia, going up to Maggie and taking her by
the hand to raise her from the floor.
    "Get away, Kezia; I don't want any dinner," said Maggie,
resisting Kezia's arm. "I sha'n't come."
    "Oh, well, I can't stay. I've got to wait at dinner," said
Kezia, going out again.
    "Maggie, you little silly," said Tom, peeping into the room ten
minutes after, "why don't you come and have your dinner? There's
lots o' goodies, and mother says you're to come. What are you
crying for, you little spooney?"
    Oh, it was dreadful! Tom was so hard and unconcerned; if
he
had been crying on the floor, Maggie would have cried
too. And there was the dinner, so nice; and she was
so
hungry. It was very bitter.
    But Tom was not altogether hard. He was not inclined to cry, and
did not feel that Maggie's grief spoiled his prospect of the
sweets; but he went and put his head near her, and said in a lower,
comforting tone,–
    "Won't you come, then, Magsie? Shall I bring you a bit o'
pudding when I've had mine, and a custard and things?"
    "Ye-e-es," said Maggie, beginning to feel life a little more
tolerable.
    "Very well," said Tom, going away. But he turned again at the
door and said, "But you'd better come, you know. There's the
dessert,–nuts, you know, and cowslip wine."
    Maggie's tears had ceased, and she looked reflective as Tom left
her. His good nature had taken off the keenest edge of her
suffering, and nuts with cowslip wine began to assert their
legitimate influence.
    Slowly she rose from amongst her scattered locks, and slowly she
made her way downstairs. Then she stood leaning with one shoulder
against the frame of the dining-parlour door, peeping in when it
was ajar. She saw Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them,
and there were the custards on a side-table; it was too much. She
slipped in and went toward the empty chair. But she had no sooner
sat down than she repented and wished herself back again.
    Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and felt such
a "turn" that she dropped the large gravy-spoon into the dish, with
the most serious results to the table-cloth. For Kezia had not
betrayed the reason of Maggie's refusal to come down, not liking to
give her mistress a shock in the moment of carving, and Mrs.
Tulliver thought there was nothing worse in question than a fit of
perverseness, which was inflicting its own punishment by depriving
Maggie of half her dinner.
    Mrs. Tulliver's scream made all eyes turn towards the same point
as her own, and Maggie's cheeks and ears began to burn, while uncle
Glegg, a kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said,–
    "Heyday! what little gell's this? Why, I don't know her. Is it
some little gell you've picked up in the road, Kezia?"
    "Why, she's gone and cut her hair herself," said Mr. Tulliver in
an undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment. Did you
ever know such a little hussy as it is?"
    "Why, little miss, you've made yourself look very funny," said
Uncle Pullet, and perhaps he never in his life made an observation
which was felt to be so lacerating.
    "Fie, for shame!" said aunt Glegg, in her loudest, severest tone
of reproof. "Little gells as cut their own hair should be whipped
and fed on bread and water,–not come and sit down with their aunts
and uncles."
    "Ay, ay," said uncle Glegg, meaning to give a playful turn to
this denunciation, "she must be sent to jail, I think, and they'll
cut the rest of her hair off there, and make it all even."
    "She's more like a gypsy nor ever," said aunt Pullet, in a
pitying tone; "it's very bad luck, sister, as the gell should be so
brown; the boy's fair enough. I doubt it'll stand in her way i'
life to be so brown."
    "She's a naughty child, as'll break her mother's heart," said
Mrs. Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.
    Maggie seemed to be listening to a chorus