dark there came into her face a look that I can describe only as a
leary look. It was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with
Tony's uneasy glances. Then he would make her presents of his
favourite toys (which he always took away from her next morning) and
she accepted them with a disturbing smile. The reason he was now
become so wheedling and she so mysterious was (in brief) that they
knew they were about to be sent to bed. It was then that Maimie was
terrible. Tony entreated her not to do it to-night, and the mother
and their coloured nurse threatened her, but Maimie merely smiled her
agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were alone with their
night-light she would start up in bed crying "Hsh! what was that?"
Tony beseeches her! "It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!" and pulls
the sheet over his head. "It is coming nearer!" she cries; "Oh, look
at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is boring for
you, oh, Tony, oh!" and she desists not until he rushes downstairs in
his combinations, screeching. When they came up to whip Maimie they
usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but
really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest little angel, which
seems to me to make it almost worse.

But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then
Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he
was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She
would have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his
sister. And at no time did she admire him more than when he told her,
as he often did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to
remain behind in the Gardens after the gates were closed.

"Oh, Tony," she would say, with awful respect, "but the fairies will
be so angry!"