I wish I could! Oh, I _wish_ I could!" Her teeth were set tightly together, and her hands were clenched.
Fidelia met her angry gaze unflinchingly for an instant, and then, with a contemptuous "pooh!" raised the pitcher and gave it a lurch forward.

It was so heavy that it turned in her hands, and instead of drenching Lloyd, its contents deluged Fanchette, who suddenly came out of the door beside Lloyd, with the thousand dollar poodle in her arms.
Poor Beauty gave an injured yelp, and Fidelia drew back and slammed the door, locking it hastily.

She knew that the maid would hurry to her mistress while he was still shivering, and that there would be an uncomfortable account to settle by and by.
Howell, who had crept up to watch the fuss, doubled himself with laughter.
It amused him even more than it had Fidelia that he had escaped the water, and Lloyd had caught it in his stead.

Lloyd swept past him without a word, and ran to her mother's room so angry that she could not keep the tears back while telling her grievance.
"_See_ what that horrid Sattawhite girl has done!" she cried, holding out her limp wet skirts, and streaked sash, with an expression of disgust.

I just _despise_ her!" "It was an accident, was it not ?" asked Mrs.Sherman.
"Oh, she didn't know she was throwing the watah on me, when she pitched it out, but she was glad that it happened to hit me.