her. "I warned you my
stories were sadly deficient in beginning and end, and middle too--in
short they are not stories at all."

"Never mind, they're _very_ nice," said Molly; "and if I may sit up till
this one's done I don't mind your telling Sylvia what you had for dinner,
grandmother dear."

"Many thanks for your small majesty's gracious permission," said
grandmother. "But as to what we had for dinner, I really can't say. Much
the same as you have now, I fancy. Let me see--it was November--very
likely a roast chicken and rice pudding."

"Oh!" said Sylvia, in a tone of some disappointment; "go on then, please,
grandmother."

"Where was I?" said grandmother. "Oh yes--well, after dinner we went up
to the drawing-room, and grandmother, saying she was a good deal tired by
her exertions of the morning, sat down in her own particular easy chair
by the fire, and, spreading over her face a very fine cambric
handkerchief which she kept, I strongly suspect, for the purpose,
prepared for her after-dinner nap. It was really a regular institution
with her--but I noticed she always made some little special excuse for
it, as if it was something quite out of the common. She told me to
amuse myself during her forty winks by looking at the treasures in the
glass-doored cupboards, which she knew I was very fond of admiring, and
she told me I might open the book cupboard if I wanted to take out a
book, but on no account any of the others.

"Now I assure you, children, and by your own experience you will believe
what I say, that, but for my grandmother's warnings, the idea of opening
the glass doors when by myself would never have come into my head. I had
often been in the drawing-room alone and gazed admiringly at the
treasures without ever dreaming of examining them more closely. I had
never even _wished_ to do so, any more than one wishes to handle the moon
or stars or any other un-get-at-able objects. But now, unfortunately, the
idea was suggested, it had been put into my head, and there it stayed. I
walked round the room gazing in at the cupboards in turn--the book ones
did not particularly attract me--long ago I had read, over and over
again, the few books in my grandmother's possession that I could feel
interested in, and I stood still at last in front of the prettiest
cupboard of all, wishing that grandmother had not forbidden my opening
it. There were such lovely cups and saucers! I longed to handle them--one
in particular