stiff.

Then one, great grown person said: "She seems a very quiet child." And
the other said: "She is a very quiet child--sometimes."

But just then Bessie Bell turned her head, and though her round little
neck felt stiff it did not pop!--and she saw--something in a corner
that was blue, green, and brown, and soft, and she forgot how afraid to
move she was, and she forgot how stiff she thought she was, and she
forgot how still she was told to be, and she jumped up and ran to the
corner and cried out: "Pretty! Pretty! Pretty!"

One grown person took up the Thing that was blue, and green, and brown,
and soft, and waved it to and fro, to and fro in front of Bessie Bell.

And Bessie Bell clapped her hands, and jumped for joy, and laughed, and
cried: "Boo! boo! boo!"

And Bessie Bell ran right into the Thing that was blue, and green, and
brown, and soft, and she threw out her round little arms and clasped
them about the Thing that was blue, and green, and brown, and soft!

And she pulled it over her face, and she laughed and cried for
joy--because she remembered--

But the great grown person who had brought Bessie Bell to the pretty
house said: "Oh, Bessie Bell! Why, Bessie Bell! For shame, Bessie
Bell! How could you do so to the beautiful peacock-feather-fly-brush!"

So Bessie Bell could only cry--and that very softly--and feel ashamed
as she was bid, and forget what it was that she remembered.

Bessie Bell might have remembered one time when a great house was all
desolate, and when nobody or nothing at all breathed in the whole great
big house, but one little tiny girl and one great big white cat, with
just one black spot on its tail.

The nurse that always had played so nicely with the tiny little girl
was lying with her cheek in her hand over yonder.

The Grandmother who had always talked so much to the tiny little girl
was not talking any more.

The tiny little girl was so sick that she only just could breathe
quickly, just so--and just so--.

If Bessie Bell could remember that, it was only that she remembered the
big white cat like a big soft dream. And she might have remembered
how, now and then, the big cat put out a paw and touched the little
girl's cheek, like a soft white dream-touch.

And that little girl had on a night-gown that was long, and soft, and
white, and on that little white night-gown was worked, oh so carefully,
in linen thread: "Bessie Bell."

Then the few people who walked abou