'Yes, our pennies and halfpennies for seeing the show,' repeated the
dwarfs; 'we must not make ourselves too cheap.'

'Good-night, child,' said the giant.

'Good-night, child,' said the dwarfs.

Sorrowful as she was, they almost made Rosalie smile, they were such tiny
little creatures to call her 'child' in that superior manner. But she
hastened back to the caravan, and after telling Mother Manikin that she had
delivered her message to her friends, she took up her place by her mother's
side.

It was a great comfort having little Mother Manikin there, she was so kind
and considerate, so thoughtful and clever, and she always seemed to know
exactly what was wanted, though Rosalie's mother was too weak to ask for
anything.

All night long the poor woman lay still, sometimes entirely unconscious, at
other times opening her eyes and trying to smile at poor little Rosalie,
who was sitting at the foot of the bed. Mother Manikin did everything that
had to be done. She was evidently accustomed to a sickroom and knew the
best way of making those she nursed comfortable. She climbed on a chair and
arranged the pillows, so that the sick woman could breathe most easily. And
after a time she made the poor tired child take off her white dress, and
lie down at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a woollen shawl. And in a few
minutes Rosalie fell asleep.

When she awoke, the grey light was stealing in at the caravan window. She
raised herself on the bed and looked round. At first she thought she was