She wanted this little Miss Seaford to like her, and to be willing to
play with her, so she only repeated: "I say that that little girl in
the picture _is me_!"
Sprite turned toward the door.
"Princess Polly may be looking for me," she said, "so I'll go, now."
As she stepped out into the sunshine she remembered something that she
should have said, and she turned.
"Thank you for letting me see the portraits," she said. "I'm glad you
showed them to me."
"Well, _I'm_ not," Gwen said, rudely. "I wish I _hadn't_, 'cause you
don't b'lieve that pretty portrait is me."
Sprite looked at her with wondering eyes. She was thinking that it was
strange that a little girl who wore lovely frocks, and lived in a
handsome house was willing to be as rude as any little vagrant who
roamed the beach at Cliffmore, gathering sea weed.
"Our house is just an old ship's hull turned upside down, and fixed
up for a house, but mother never let me speak like that to anyone, and
besides, I wouldn't want to," she thought.
She walked toward the avenue, Gwen close beside her.
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