Very palpably her eyelids began to droop. "Where was I?" she asked
sharply. "Oh, yes, 'the green, grassy club.' Well, when I die," she
faltered, "I'm going to die specially on some Sunday when there's a big
golf game,--so he'll just naturally have to give it up and stay home
and--amuse me--and help arrange the flowers. The Parpa's crazy about
flowers. So am I," she added broodingly. "I raised almost a geranium
once. But the Parpa threw it out. It was a good geranium, too. All it
did was just to drip the tiniest-teeniest bit over a book and a writing
and somebody's brains in a dish. He threw it at a cat. It was a good
cat, too. All it did was to--"

A little jerkily her drooping head bobbed forward and then back again.
Her heavy eyes were almost tight shut by this time, and after a moment's
silence her lips began moving dumbly like one at silent devotions. "I'm
making a little poem, now," she confided at last. "It's about--you and
me. It's a sort of a little prayer." Very, very softly she began to
repeat.

Now I sit me down to nap
All curled up in a Nursie's lap,
If _she_ should die before I wake--

Abruptly she stopped and stared up suspiciously into the White Linen
Nurse's eyes. "Ha!" she mocked, "you thought I was going to say 'If I
should die before I wake,'--didn't you? _Well, I'm not_!"

"It would have been more generous," acknowledged the White Linen Nurse.

Very stiffly the Little Girl pursed her lips. "It's plenty generous
enough--when it's all done!" she said severely. "And I'll thank