y full of thoughts. Her face, which she
rarely shows to a stranger, is like a doll in its delicate daintiness;
but the mouth is very resolute, and the eyes very grave. Her hands and
feet are sea-shell things of a pretty pinky brown, and her ways are the
ways of a sea-anemone in a pool among the rocks.

Lulla, because of her anemone ways, is sometimes unkindly called
"Huffs." She does not understand that there are days when those who love
her most have little time to give to her. Lulla naturally argues that
where there is a will there is a way, and desultory, isolated, spasmodic
affection is worth little; so next time her friend appears, she explains
all this to her by means of a single gesture: she draws her tentacles
in.

But it is when Lulla has undertaken to investigate a tin of sweets that
she most suggests Agassiz. The tin has a lid which fits tightly, and
Lulla's fingers are very small and not very strong. The tin, moreover,
is on the window-sill just out of reach, though she stands on tip-toe
and stretches a little eager hand as far as it will go. Then it is you
see persistence. Lulla finds another baby, leads her to the window and
points up to the tin. The other baby tries. They both try together; if
this fails, Lulla finds a taller one, and at last successful, sits down
with the tin held tightly in both hands, and turns it over and shakes
it. This process seems to inspire fresh hope and energy; for she sets to
work round the lid, which is one of the fitting-in sort, and carefully
presses and pulls. Naturally this does nothing, and she shakes the tin
again. The joyful sound of rattling sweets stimulates to fresh attempts
upon the lid. She tugs and pulls, and thumps the refractory thing on the
floor. By this time the other babies, attracted by the hopeful rattle,
have gathered round and are watching operations; some offer to help, but
all such offers are declined. This oyster is Lulla's. She has undertaken
to force it. Agassiz and his fishes are on her side. She will not give
it up. But she is not getting on; and she sits still for a moment,
knitting her brow, and frowning a little puzzled frown at the refractory
tin.

Suddenly her forehead smooths, the anxious brown eyes smile, Lulla has
thought a new good thought. The babies struggle up and offer to help
Lulla up, but she shakes her head. She seems to feel if she herself
unaided, of her own free will, hands her problem over to her Ammal or
her Sittie, only s