"I--I have lost mine."

There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then
a handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was produced.
I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl,
intensely interested, watching the operation and giving me advice.
"There--it's all right now--a little more on the right--there--
now it's all off."

"Are you sure? No green left?" I anxiously asked.

"No, it's red all over now," she replied cheerfully.
"Let me get home," thought I, very much upset by this information,
"let me get home to my dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept
my nose as an example of what a nose should be, and whatever
its colour think it beautiful." And thrusting the handkerchief
back into the little girl's hands, I hurried away down the path.
She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds for it was
of the size of a small sheet, and then came running after me.
"Where are you going?" she asked surprised, as I turned down the path
leading to the gate.

"Through this gate," I replied with decision.

"But you mustn't--we're not allowed to go through there-- --"

So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at
the words not allowed my hand dropped of itself from the latch;
and at that instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist
struck me rigid.