"S--sh!" said the White Linen Nurse. "Why, you mustn't ever say a thing
like that! Why, your Marma wouldn't like you to say a thing like that!"

Jerking bumpily back against the White Linen Nurse's unprepared shoulder
the Little Girl prodded a pallid finger-tip into the White Linen Nurse's
vivid cheek. "Silly--Pink and White--Nursie!" she chuckled, "Don't you
know there _isn't_ any Marma?" Cackling with delight over her own
superior knowledge she folded her little arms and began to rock herself
convulsively to and fro.

"Why, stop!" cried the White Linen Nurse. "Now you stop! Why, you wicked
little creature laughing like that about your poor dead mother! Why,
just think how bad it would make your poor Parpa feel!"

With instant sobriety the Little Girl stopped rocking, and stared
perplexedly into the White Linen Nurse's shocked eyes. Her own little
face was all wrinkled up with earnestness.

"But the Parpa--didn't like the Marma!" she explained painstakingly.
"The Parpa--_never_ liked the Marma! That's why he doesn't like me! I
heard Cook telling the Ice Man once when I wasn't more than ten minutes
old!"

Desperately with one straining hand the White Linen Nurse stretched her
fingers across the Little Girl's babbling mouth. Equally desperately,
with the other hand, she sought to divert the Little Girl's mind by
pushing the fur cap back from her frizzly red hair, and loosening her
sumptuous coat, and jerking down vainly across two painfully obtrusive
white ruffles, the awkwardly short, hideously bright little purple
dress.