I'm going to try and bring Philip back."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, Isobel! If only he'll come back I don't
care what I do. Or I'll give up my parts if he wants them, and be a
scene-shifter, if you'll lend me your carpet-slippers, and make me a
paper cap."
"GOD has given you a very sweet temper, Bobby," said I,
solemnly. "I wish I had one like it."
"You're as good as gold," said Bobby. His loving hug added strength
to my resolutions, and I ran across the garden and jumped the ha-ha,
and followed Philip over the marsh. I do not know whether he heard my
steps when I came nearly up with him, but I fancy his pace slackened.
Not that he looked round. He was much too sulky.
Philip is a very good-looking boy, much handsomer than I am, though we
are alike. But the family curse disfigures his face when he is cross
more than any one's, and the back view of him is almost worse than the
front. His shoulders get so humped up, and his whole figure is stiff
with cross-grained obstinacy.
"I shall never hold out if he speaks as ungraciously as he looks,"
thought I in despair. "But I'll not give in till I can hold out no
longer."
"Philip!" I said. He turned round, and his face was no prettier to
look at than his shoulders.
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