"Please—don't."
Graham waxed inexorable on hearing the pleading tone; he took the scissors from his mother's work-casket.
"Here goes!" said he, making a menacing flourish. "Right through Fido's head, and splitting little Harry's nose."
"No! No! NO!"
"Then come to me. Come quickly, or it is done."
She hesitated, lingered, but complied.
"Now, will you have it?" he asked, as she stood before him.
"Please."
"But I shall want payment."
"How much?"
"A kiss."
"Give the picture first into my hand."
Polly, as she said this, looked rather faithless in her turn. Graham gave it. She absconded a debtor, darted to her father, and took refuge on his knee. Graham rose in mimic wrath and followed. She buried her face in Mr. Home's waistcoat.
"Papa—papa—send him away!"
"I'll not be sent away," said Graham.
