"So you wouldn't care to have me tell you the big news!"

"No!"

"Well, I am going to tell you anyhow, because I can't keep it to myself any
longer! Uncle John is dead!"

"Uncle John! Dead?"

"Yes, and I'm happy!"

"What do you mean, you're happy!"

"Well, I am happy!--not because Uncle John is dead, but because his little
girl, Paula, who is just my age, is coming to live with us, so, of course,
why shouldn't I be happy?"

"Well, you can just forget your 'happiness,' because Paula is _not_ going
to live with us. I can tell you that right now!"

"And why not? Father said she was coming! You can ask Teresa, or Rosa, or
Louis!"

"I am not going to ask anyone, but I tell you that Paula is _not_ coming
here! No! and indeed, NO! I've got enough to put up with, with Louis and
you! It seems as if you tear my head apart, for you quarrel from morning
till night; and when you play it seems as if the house is coming down; and
now suppose another bad-mannered little girl should come among us! But I
tell you it _never_ shall happen!"