To her speechless surprise, a door popped open and a cupful of water was dashed full in her face.  Spluttering and angry, she drew back in time to avoid another cupful, which came flying through the transom above the same door.  Retreating still farther down the passage, and wiping her face as she went, she kept her gaze on the door, walking backward in order to do so.

Another cupful came splashing out into the hall through the transom.  A boy, tiptoeing up to the door, dodged back so quickly that not a drop touched him; then with a long squirt gun that he carried, he knelt before the keyhole and sent a stream of water squirting through it.  It was Howell.

There was a scream from the bedroom, Fidelia’s voice.  “Stop that, you hateful boy!  I’ll tell mamma!  You’ve nearly put my eye out.”

A muffled giggle and a scamper of feet down the hall was the only answer.  Fidelia threw open the door and looked out, a water pitcher in her hand.  She stopped in amazement at sight of the Little Colonel, who was waiting for a chance to dodge down the hall past the dangerous door, into the main passage.

“For mercy sakes!” exclaimed Fidelia.  “When did you come?”

“In time fo’ yoah watah fight,” answered the indignant Little Colonel, shaking out her wet handkerchief.  She was thoroughly provoked, for the front of her fresh white dress was drenched, and the dainty rosebud sash streaked with water.

Fidelia laughed.  “You don’t mean to say that you caught the ducking I meant for Howl!” she exclaimed.  “Well, if that isn’t a joke!  It’s the funniest thing I ever heard of!” Putting the pitcher on the floor and clasping her hands to her sides, she laughed until she had to lean against the wall.

“It’s moah bad mannahs than a joke!” retorted Lloyd, angered more by the laugh than she had been by the wetting.  “A girl as old as you oughtn’t to go travellin’ till you know how to behave yo’self in a hotel.  I don’t wondah that wherevah you go people say, ’Oh, those dreadful American children!’”

“It isn’t so!  They don’t say it!” snapped Fidelia.  “I’ve got just as good manners as you have, anyhow, and I’ll throw this whole pitcher of water on you if you say another word.”  She caught it up threateningly.

“You just dare!” cried the Little Colonel, her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushing.  Not for years had she been so angry.  She wanted to scream and pull Fidelia’s hair with savage fingers.  She wanted to bump her head against the wall, again and again.  But with an effort so great that it made her tremble, she controlled herself, and stood looking steadily at Fidelia without a word.

“I mustn’t speak,” she kept saying desperately to herself.  “I mustn’t speak, or my tempah will get away with me.  I might claw her eyes out.  I wish I could!  Oh, I wish I could!” Her teeth were set tightly together, and her hands were clenched.