(She had heard her nurse once draw one.) In her heart was utter misery.

The gravel hurt her face, the almond tree was farther away than ever; she was captured more completely than she had ever been before.
"Oh, you naughty little girl--you _naughty_ girl," she heard her aunt say; and then, after her, the bird like a cork.

She stood there, her mouth tightly shut, the marks of tears drying to muddy lines on her face.
She was dragged off.

Aunt Emily was furious at the child's silence; Aunt Emily was also aware that she must have looked what she would call "a pretty figure of fun" with her hat askew, her hair blown "anyway," and a small child of three escaping from her charge as fast as she could go.
Angelina was dragged across the street, in through the squeezed front door, over the dark stairs, up into the nursery.

Miss Violet's voice was heard calling, "Is that you, Emily?
Tea's been waiting some time." It was nurse's afternoon out, and the nursery was grimly empty; but through the open, window came the evening sounds of the happy Square.
Miss Emily placed Angelina in the middle of the room.