Chapter 12 - Page 2

to be pinched,
she would be pinched for a reason.

Andrews knelt by the side of the bed. She had a long, strong,
thin arm and it darted beneath and clutched. But it was not long
enough to attain the corner where the kicking and screaming was
going on. Her temper became fury before her impotence and her
hideous realization of being made ridiculous by this baby of six.
Two floors below the afterglow of the little dinner was going on.
Suppose even far echoes of the screams should be heard and make
her more ridiculous still. She knew how they would laugh and her
mistress would make some silly joke about Robin's being too much
for her. Her fury rose so high that she had barely sense to realize
that she must not let herself go too far when she got hold of the
child. Get hold of her she would and pay her out--My word! She
would pay her out!

"You little devil!" she said between her teeth, "Wait till I get
hold of you." And Robin shrieked and hammered more insanely still.

The bed was rather a low one and it was difficult for any one larger
than a child to find room beneath it. The correct and naturally
rigid Andrews lay flat upon her stomach and wriggled herself partly
under the edge. Just far enough for her long and strong arm, and
equally long and strong clutching fingers to do their work. In her
present state of mind, Andrews would have broken her back rather
than not have reached the creature who so defied her. The strong
fingers clenched a flying petticoat and dragged at it fiercely--the
next moment they clutched a frantic foot, with a power which could
not be broken away from. A jerk and a remorseless dragging over
the carpet and Robin was out of the protecting darkness and in
the gas light again, lying tumbled and in an untidy, torn little
heap on the nursery floor. Andrews was panting, but she did not
loose her hold as she scrambled, without a rag of professional
dignity, to her feet.

"My word!" she breathlessly gave forth. "I've got you now! I've
got you now."

She so looked that to Robin she seemed--like the ugly man
downstairs--a sort of wicked wild beast, whose mere touch would
have been horror even if it did not hurt. And the child knew what
was coming. She felt herself dragged up from the floor and also
dragged between Andrew's knees, which felt bony and hard as iron.
There was no getting away from them. Andrews had seated herself
firmly on a chair.

Holding her between the iron knees, she put her large hand over
her mouth. It was a hand large enough to cover more than her mouth.
Only the panic-stricken eyes seemed to flare wide and lustrous
above it.

"YOU'LL scream!" she said, "YOU'LL