e was a
nursery, but he was not imprisoned in it--was not even encouraged to
spend his time there. He was sent out for walks, and alone, for the park
was large and safe. And the nursery was the room of all that great house
that attracted him most, for it was full of toys of the most fascinating
kind. A rocking-horse as big as a pony, the finest dolls' house you
ever saw, boxes of tea-things, boxes of bricks--both the wooden and the
terra-cotta sorts--puzzle maps, dominoes, chessmen, draughts, every kind
of toy or game that you have ever had or ever wished to have.

And Pip was not allowed to play with any of them.

'You mustn't touch anything, if you please,' the nurse said, with that
icy politeness which goes with a uniform. 'The toys are Miss Lucy's. No;
I couldn't be responsible for giving you permission to play with them.
No; I couldn't think of troubling Miss Lucy by writing to ask her if you
may play with them. No; I couldn't take upon myself to give you Miss
Lucy's address.'

For Philip's boredom and his desire had humbled him even to the asking
for this.

For two whole days he lived at the Grange, hating it and every one in
it; for the servants took their cue from the nurse, and the child felt
that in the whole house he had not a friend. Somehow he had got the idea
firmly in his head that this was a time when Helen was not to be
bothered about anything; so he wrote to her that he was quite well,
thank you, and the park was very pretty and Lucy had lots of nice toys.
He felt very brave and noble, and like a martyr. And he set his teeth
to bear it all. It was like spending a few days at the dentist's.

And then suddenly everything changed. The nurse got a telegram. A
brother who had been thought to be drowned at sea had abruptly come
home. She must go to see him. 'If it costs me the situation,' she said
to the housekeeper, who answered:

'Oh, well--go, then. I'll be responsible for the boy--sulky little
brat.'

And the nurse went. In a happy bustle she packed her boxes and went. At
the last moment Philip, on the doorstep watching her climb into the
dog-cart, suddenly sprang forward.

'Oh, Nurse!' he cried, blundering against the almost moving wheel, and
it was the first time he had called her by any name. 'Nurse, do--do say
I may take Lucy's toys to play with; it _is_ so lonely here. I may,
mayn't I? I may take them?'

Perhaps the nurse's heart was softened by her own happiness and the
thought of the b