"We had bweakfast--nurse said I--(long pause for breath)--was dood
girl; Auntie Vi'let came; I dwew with my pencil."

"Say 'drew,' not 'dwew.'"

"Drew."

All this was very exhausting to Aunt Emily. She was no nearer the
child's heart.... Angelina maintained an impenetrable reserve. Old maids
have much time amongst the unsatisfied and sterile monotonies of their
life--this is only true of _some_ old maids; there are very delightful
ones--to devote to fancies and microscopic imitations. It was
astonishing now how largely in Miss Emily Braid's life loomed the figure
of Rose, the rag doll.

"If it weren't for that wretched doll, I believe one could get some
sense out of the child."

"I think it's a mistake, nurse, to let Miss Angelina play with that doll
so much."

"Well, mum, it'd be difficult to take it from her now. She's that
wrapped in it." ... And so she was.... Rose stood to Angelina for so
much more than Rose.

"Oh, Wosie, _when_ will he come again.... P'r'aps never. And I'm
forgetting. I can't remember at all about the funny water and the twee
with the flowers, and all of it. Wosie, _you_ 'member--Whisper." And
Rose offered in her own mysterious, taciturn way the desired comfort.