He was equally unwilling to go home again, and to lose his visit.
"Provoking!" said he.

"That comes from Malleville's hurrying me so.
It is all her fault." Then starting off suddenly, he began to run, shouting out, "Malleville! Malleville!" At length, when he got pretty near her, he called out for her to stop and see what she had made him do.
"Did I make you do that ?" said Malleville, looking at the rent, while Phonny stood with his foot extended, and pointing at it with his finger.
"Yes," said Phonny,--"because you hurried me." "Well, I'm sorry;" said Malleville, looking very much concerned.
Phonny was put quite to a nonplus by this unexpected answer.

He had expected to hear Malleville deny that it was her fault that he had torn his clothes, and was prepared to insist strenuously that it was; but this unlooked-for gentleness seemed to leave him not a word to say.

So he walked along by the side of Malleville in silence.
"Was it a pretty bird's-nest ?" said Malleville in a conciliatory tone, after a moment's pause.
"No," said Phonny.

"It was not any bird's nest at all." When the children reached the farm as they called it, Mary Erskine seated Phonny on the bed, and then drawing up her chair near to him, she took his foot in her lap and mended the rent so neatly that there was afterwards no sign of it to be seen.
Little Albert was at this time about three years old, and Bella was seven.