Even "The King of the Golden River" did not rouse her:
she did not want a story; she did not want me; she did not want a red
balloon at night; she wanted to walk between you, to the station, with her
little hands in yours! God grant the day may not come when you will be
heart-broken because you can never lead her any more!
She asked me some questions, while you were gone, which you remember I
repeated to you. She asked me if I did not hate nice new shoes; and why
little girls could not put on the dresses they liked best; and if mamma
did not look beautiful in that pretty white dress; and said that, if she
could only have had her own tea-set, at breakfast, she would have let me
have my coffee in one of her cups. Gradually she grew happier, and began
to tell me about her great wax-doll, which had eyes that could shut; which
was kept in a trunk because she was too little, mamma said, to play very
much with it now; but she guessed mamma would let her have it to-day; did
I not think so? Alas! I did, and I said so; in fact, I felt sure that it
was the very thing you would be certain to do, to sweeten the day, which
had begun so sadly for poor little Blue Eyes.
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