hat an old woman like me can do to make your father's child
happy, do not be afraid to ask for it, but I will not have grumbling
in the drawing-room. By all means make up your mind as to what you
want, and don't be afraid to ask your old godmother. But if she thinks
it right to refuse, or you do not think it right to ask, you must make
the best of matters as they stand, and keep your good humour and your
good manners like a lady."

I felt puzzled. When I complained to nurse that Joseph "was so
tiresome," she grumbled back again that "she never knew such
children," and so forth. It is always easy to meet grievance with
grievance, but I found that it was not so easy to make up my mind and
pluck up my courage to ask in so many words for what I wanted.

"Shall I ask Joseph to put away his cannon and come and play at your
game for an hour now, my dear? I will certainly forbid him to fire
into your shop."

This did not quite satisfy me. As a matter of fact, Joseph had left
his fortress to play with me; and I did not really think he would
discharge his cannon at the poulterer's again. But I thought myself
hardly used, and I wanted my godmother to think so too, and to scold
Joseph. What else I wanted, I did not feel quite sure.

"I wish you would speak to Joseph," I said. "He would attend to you if
you told him how selfish and stupid he is."

"My dear, I never offered to complain to Joseph, but I will order him
not to molest you, and I will ask him to play with you."

"I'm sure I don't want him to play with me, unless he can play nicely,
and invent things for the dolls to say, as Maud Mary would," was my
reply; for I was getting thoroughly vexed.

"Then I will tell him that unless he can play your game as you wish
it, he had better amuse himself with his own toys. Is there anything
else that you want, my dear?"

I could not speak, for I was crying, but I sobbed out that "I missed
Maud Mary so."

"Who is Maud Mary, Selina?"

"Maud Mary Ibbetson, my particular friend--my _very_ particular
friend," I explained.

I spoke warmly, for at that moment the memory of Maud Mary seemed
adorable, and I longed to pour my complaints into her sympathetic ear.
Besides, I had another reason for regretting that she was not with me.
When we were together, it was she, as a rule, who had new and handsome
toys to exhibit, whilst I played the humbler part of admirer. But if
she had been with me, then, what would not have been my triumph