't know before that little boys and girls _did_ play with
each other," said Una--"at least, when I saw other little boys and
girls playing with each other I thought they were brothers and sisters,
or cousins, and, of course, I haven't got any brothers or sisters or
cousins of my very own; but now that I know what little boys and girls
do, I _do_ want to go to church and go to tea with them in their
houses, and do things like them. _Please_, father, let me!" And Una
clasped her hands coaxingly as she thought of the dear old lady and
gentleman she had been to tea with, that afternoon.

The flower-filled garden, the yellow honeycomb, the gold-fish and the
black puppy--and the cockatoo the old gentleman had promised to show
her the next time she came--all floated through her brain as she waited
for her father's answer. But Monsieur Gen shook his head.

"No, dear," he said.

To himself he was thinking that perhaps he had been foolish to allow
Una to be friends with the vicar's children at all; he might have known
that it would make her restless, and dissatisfied with the quiet life
she had been quite content to live before.

Then he roused himself and looked down kindly at his little girl.

"Are you very disappointed? Poor little Una!" he said, putting his arm
round her and drawing her to his side. "Don't look so sad, and I will
try and explain to you why it is that you have never had little friends
and companions of your own age."

Una looked at him, still gravely, but with the light of a growing
interest in her eyes. Then she fetched a little stool and sat down at
her father's feet.

"You must know, Una dear," said her father, smiling rather sadly, as he
looked down at her, "that each one of us has some kind of work to do in
the world. We may do it badly or we may do it well, or we may not even
try to do it at all, but each one of us _ought_ to try to do something
to help our fellow-men. Do you understand, little one?"

Una nodded.

"Yes, father; I quite understand," she said.

It was not often that her father talked in this way--it was rather like
listening to the vicar's sermon the only Sunday she had ever been to
church, she thought, as she leant her head against her father's knee;
and Monsieur Gen went on speaking:

"Well, dear, sometimes people can help each other to do their bits of
work in the world, and sometimes, too, they can spoil other people's
work; and there are some people who are trying