dev--," she began.

"Yes," sighed the Little Girl complacently. "That's just what the Parpa
calls me." Fervidly she clasped her little hands together. "Yes, if I
can only make him mad enough daytimes," she asserted, "then at night
when he thinks I'm all asleep he comes and stands by my cribby-house
like a great black shadow-bear and shakes and shakes his most beautiful
head and says, 'Poor little devil--poor little devil.' Oh, if I can only
make him mad enough daytimes!" she cried out ecstatically.

"Why, you naughty little thing!" scolded the White Linen Nurse with an
unmistakable catch in her voice. "Why, you--naughty--naughty--little
thing!"

Like the brush of a butterfly's wing the child's hand grazed the White
Linen Nurse's cheek. "I'm a lonely little thing," she confided
wistfully. "Oh, I'm an awfully lonely little thing!" With really
shocking abruptness the old malicious smile came twittering back to her
mouth. "But I'll get even with the Parpa yet!" she threatened joyously,
reaching out with pliant fingers to count the buttons on the White
Linen Nurse's dress. "Oh, I'll get even with the Parpa yet!" In the
midst of the passionate assertion her rigid little mouth relaxed in a
most mild and innocent yawn.

"Oh, of course," she yawned, "on wash days and ironing days and every
other work day in the week he has to be away cutting up people 'cause
that's his lawful business. But Sundays, when he doesn't really need to
at all, he goes off to some kind of a green, grassy club--all day
long--and plays golf."