The sight of them pleased Ellen immensely. She held one up and shook it
in her small fists, slowly and carefully tore a corner off it, and cast
the sheet down in favour of the next in order. This she tore cleanly in
two in the middle. The paper was tough, to be sure, but the little fists
were strong.
Then she remembered that seductive bath-tub. A patter of little feet, a
laugh of pleasure--"Da!" cried Ellen, gleefully---and the first sheet
was in.
Seven trips, pursued with vigour and growing hilarity, and Charlotte's
work had received its initial plunge into a new state of being. Four of
the drawings had been torn in two. The bath-tub was a mass of softly
blending colours.
Charlotte came running back up the stairs, her mind, which had been held
captive by a young caller, reverting with some anxiety to the small
person whom she had left, as she thought, shut up in the safe bath-room.
She expected to hear Ellen crying, as was likely to be the case when
left alone without sufficient means of amusement; but the silence, as
she flew up-stairs, alarmed her. Silence was almost sure to mean
mischief.
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