She would undoubtedly speak very loud.

She expected the volley of recrimination in a high treble which would follow the announcement in that sweet little flute which she remembered so well.
"Mamma, that is the lady who kept me, and would not let me go home." But Ellen, after a second's innocent and startled regard, turned away with no more recognition than if she had been a stranger.

She turned her little back to her, and looked at the doll-house.

A great flush flamed over Cynthia Lennox's face, and a qualm of mortal shame.

She took an impetuous glide forward, and was just about to speak and tell the truth, whatever the consequences, and not be outdone in magnanimity by that child, when a young girl with a sickly but impudent and pretty face jostled her rudely.