l. The porridge
disappeared rapidly.

"I want some more," said Jeanneton.

"Bless me, how fast you have eaten," said the mother, turning to the
bowl.

This made Toinette laugh, which shook her spoon, and a drop of the hot
mixture fell right on the tip of Marie's nose as she sat with upturned
face waiting her turn for a second helping. Marie gave a little scream.

"What is it?" said the mother.

"Hot water! Right in my face!" sputtered Marie.

"Water!" cried Marc. "It's porridge."

"You spattered with your spoon. Eat more carefully, my child," said the
mother, and Toinette laughed again as she heard her. After all, there
was some fun in being invisible.

The morning went by. Constantly the mother went to the door, and,
shading her eyes with her hand, looked out, in hopes of seeing a little
figure come down the wood-path, for she thought perhaps the child went
to the spring after water, and fell asleep there. The children played
happily, meanwhile. They were used to doing without Toinette and did not
seem to miss her, except that now and then baby Jeanneton said: "Poor
Toinette gone--not here--all gone."

"Well, what if she has?" said Marc at last looking up from the wooden
cup he was carving for Marie's doll. "We can play all the better."

Marc was a bold, outspoken boy, who always told his whole mind about
things.

"If she were here," he went on, "she'd only scold and interfere.
Toinette almost always scolds. I like to have her go away. It makes it
pleasanter."

"It is rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, "only I'd like her to be
having a nice time somewhere else."

"Bother about Toinette," cried Pierre.

"Let's play 'My godmother has cabbage to sell.'"

I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy in her life, as when she
stood by unseen, and heard the children say these words. She had never
meant to be unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered, dreamy, wrapped
up in herself. She did not like being interrupted by them, it put her
out, and she spoke sharply and was cross. She had taken it for granted
that the others must love her, by a sort of right, and the knowledge
that they did not grieved her very much. Creeping away, she hid herself
in the woods. It was a sparkling day, but the sun did not look so bright
as usual. Cuddled down under a rosebush, Toinette sat sobbing as if her
heart would break at the recollection of the speeches she had overheard.

By and by a little voice within her woke up