I am to do with my stocking," cried
Hermione. "Oh well, I know what I will do--something quite as quiet as
a mouse. I will wind up my poor worsted." Hereupon the little girl
picked up the puckered remains of her luckless grey stocking which a
facetious young cat had spent at least a quarter of an hour in
ingeniously unravelling with his claws. It was a tiresome tedious job
we must admit, and required a strong effort of patient perseverance,
but Hermione soon became engrossed in its difficulties and a dead
silence ensued. At last Nurse who had while rocking the sleeping baby
on her knee, been watching the child's proceedings, suddenly
exclaimed, "Well to be sure, Miss Hermione, you have such patience as
I never before did see."

[The Fairies exchanged glances.

"It is _Patience_, Ambrosia."

"What a hurry you are in!" was the reply.]

"No I haven't, Nurse, indeed," answered Hermione. "I had no patience
at all when I was in a passion with the cat just now."

"Well, I suppose there are two or three sorts of Patiences, Miss,
then," persisted Nurse, "for I'm certain you have _some_ sorts. But,
dear me, its ever so much past six o'clock, and you have to be dressed
by half-past. Do put away the worsted and get yourself ready, Miss,
and call Jane to help you."

Here the Nurse and Hermione nearly had a scuffle over the worsted.
Hermione declared the cat had spoilt her stocking; and the only
comfort left to her now was to roll it comfortably up into a ball.
Nurse on the contrary insisted that it didn't signify a bit what
became of the worsted; she must dress and go down. The dispute ended
by Hermione running off with the half finished ball and its untidy
remains, and cramming the whole concern into the pocket of her best
frock. "The people will soon be tired of talking to me," muttered she
to herself, "and then I can finish my ball quietly in the corner
behind Mamma's chair."

The thought of this ingenious plan for her private amusement down
stairs so tickled Hermione's fancy that she was on the giggle the
whole time she was being dressed. "If Nurse did but know what was in
the pocket of my best frock and how fat it is! how she would scold,
and what a fight we should have." And she could hardly refrain from
loud laughter at the thought. When she had got her frock on she sat
down, and laying her arm over the fat pocket asked Jane to touch up
her curls: and while this operation was going on she began to talk to
the nurse.