Tell Me a Story

mamma had come up to thenursery she would have put it all right--she did put Poupee's foot rightthe very next day, she mended it so nicely with diamond cement, that theplace hardly showed at all--but she was busy that evening, and did nothappen to come up. So bed-time came, and still we had not made friends,though I heard Winny crying when she was saying her prayers. After wewere in bed, and nurse had gone away, Winny whispered to me, "Meg, won'tyou forgive me for saying that unkind thing? Won't you kiss me and saygood-night, Winny?"

  A minute before, I had been feeling as sorry as could be, but when Winnyspoke to me, a most hard, horrid, unkind feeling seemed to come backinto my heart, and I would not answer. I breathed as if I were asleep,pretending not to hear. I think Winny thought I was asleep, for she didnot speak again. I heard her crying softly, and then after a while Iheard by her breathing that she had really gone to sleep. But Icouldn't. I lay awake a long time, I thought it was hours and hours,and I tossed and turned, but I _couldn't_ go to sleep. I listened but Icould not hear Winny breathing--I put my hand out of my cot, andstretched across to hers to feel for her; she seemed to be lying quitestill. Then a dreadful feeling came into my mind--suppose Winny weredead, and that I had refused to make friends and say good-night! I musthave got fanciful with lying awake, I suppose, and you know I was only avery little girl. I could not bear it--I stretched myself across toWinny and put my arms round her.

  "Winny! Winny!" I said, "wake up, Winny, and kiss me, and let us saygood-night."

  Winny woke up almost immediately, and she seemed to understand at once.

  "Poor little Meg," she said, "poor little Meg. We will never be unkindto each other again--never. Good-night, dear Meg."

  "Good-night, Winny," I said. And just as I was falling asleep Iwhispered to her--"I will never let you go to sleep again, Winny,without saying good-night." And I never did, never except _once_.

  I could tell you ever so many other things about Winny, but I daresayyou would be tired, for, of course, they cannot be so interesting to anyother little girls as to me. But I think you will wish to hear aboutour last good-night.

  Have I told you about our aunts at all? We had two aunties we were veryfond of. They were young and merry and so kind to us, and there wasnothing we liked so much as going to stay with them, for their home--ourgrandfather's--was not far away. We generally all went there to spendChristmas, but one year something, I forget what, had prevented this, soto make up for it we were promised to spend Easter with them. We did solook forward to it--we were to go by ourselves, just like young ladiesgoing to pay a visit, and we were to stay from Saturday till EasterMonday or Tuesday.

  On the Saturday morning we woke up so early--hours before it was time tobe dressed--we were so excited about our visit. But somehow Winny didnot seem quite as happy about it as I wanted her to be. I asked herwhat made her dull, and she said it was because she did not like leavingpapa and mamma, and Dolly and Blanche, not even for two or three days.And when we went into mamma's room to say good-morning as usual, Winnysaid so to her too. Mamma laughed at her a little, and said she was agreat baby after all; and Winny smiled, but still she seemed dull, and Ishall never forget what a long long kiss she gave mamma that morning, asif she could When we went to the nursery for breakfast, baby Blanche wascrying very much, and nurse said she was very cross. She did not thinkshe was quite well, and we must be good and quiet. After breakfast,when mamma came to see baby, she seemed anxious about her, but baby wentto sleep before long quite comfortably, and then nurse said she would bebetter when she awoke; it was probably just a little cold. And verysoon the pony carriage was ready for Winny and me, and we kissed themall and set off on our visit. I was in high spirits, but as we droveaway I saw that Winny was actually crying a little, and she did notoften cry.

  When we got to our aunties', however, she grew quite happy again. Wewere very happy indeed on Sunday, only Winny kept saying how glad shewould be to see them all at home again on Monday or Tuesday. But onMonday morning there came a letter, which made our aunties look grave.They did not tell us about it till Winny asked if we were to go home"to-day," and then they told us that perhaps we could not go home forseveral days--not for two or three weeks even, for poor baby Blanche wasvery ill, and it was a sort of illness we might catch from her if wewere with her.

  "And that would only add to your poor mamma's trouble," said ouraunties; "so you see, dears, it is much the best for you to stay here."

  I did not mind at all; indeed I was pleased. I was sorry about baby,but not very, for I thought she would soon be better. But Winny lookedvery sad.

  "Aunty," she said, "you don't think poor baby will _die_, do you?"

  "No, dear; I hope she will soon be better," said aunty, and then Winnylooked happier.

  "Meg," she whispered to me, "we must be sure to remember about poor babybeing ill when we say our prayers." And we fixed that we would.

  After that we were very happy for two or three weeks. Sometimes we weresorry about baby and Dolly, for baby was very ill we were told, andDolly had caught the fever too. But after a while news came that theywere both better, and we began to look forward to seeing papa and mammaand them again. We used to write little letters to them all at home,and that was great fun; and we used to go such nice walks. The fieldsand lanes were full of daffodils, and soon the primroses came and theviolets, and Winny was _always_ gathering them and making wreaths andnosegays. It was a very happy time, and it all comes back into my mind_dreadfully_, when I see the spring flowers, especially the primroses,every year.

  One day we had had a particularly nice walk, and when we came in Winnyseemed so full of spirits that she hardly knew what to do with herself.We had a regular romp. In our romping, by accident, Winny knocked medown, for she was very strong, and I hurt my thumb. I was often sillyabout being hurt even a little, and I began to cry. Then Winny was _so_sorry; she kissed me and petted me, and gave me all her primrose wreathsand nosegays, so I soon left off crying. But somehow Winny's highspirits had gone away. She shivered a little and went close to the fireto get warm, and soon she said she was tired, and we both went to bed.I remember that night so well. Winny did not seem sleepy when she wasin bed, and I wasn't either. She talked to me a great deal, and _so_nicely. It was not about when we should be big girls; it was about_now_ things; about not being cross ever, and helping mamma, and abouthow pretty the lowers had looked, and how kind every one was to us, andhow kind God must be to make every one so, and just at the last, as shewas falling asleep, she said, "I do wonder so if there are primroses inheaven?" and then she fell asleep, and so did I.

  When I woke in the morning, I heard voices talking beside me. It wasone of our aunties. She was standing beside Winny, speaking to her.When she looked round and saw that I was awake, she said to me in a kindbut rather a strange voice, "Meg, dear, put on your dressing-gown andrun down to my room to be dressed. Winny has a headache, and I thinkshe had better not get up to breakfast."

  I got up immediately and put on my slippers, and I was running out ofthe room when I thought of something and ran back. I put Winny'sslippers neatly beside her crib, and I said to her, "I have put themready for you when you get up, Winny." I wanted to do something for heryou see, because I was so sorry about her headache. She did not speak,but she looked at me with such a look in her eyes. Then she said, "Kissme, Meg, dear little Meg," and I was just going to kiss her when shesuddenly seemed to remember, and she drew back. "No, dear, youmustn't," she said; "aunty would say it was better not, because I'm notwell."

  "Could I catch your headache, Winny?" I said, "or is it a cold you'vegot? You are not _very_ ill, Winny?"

  She only smiled at me, and just then I heard aunty calling to me to bequick. Winny's little hand was hanging over the side of the bed. Itook it, and kissed it--poor little hand, it felt so hot--"I may kissyour hand, mayn't I?" I said, and then I ran away.

  All that day I was kept away from Winny, playing by myself in rooms wedid not generall
y go into. Sometimes my aunties would come to the doorfor a minute and peep at me, and ask me what I would like to play with,but it was very dull. My aunties' maid took me a little walk in thegarden, and she put me to bed, but I cried myself to sleep because I hadnot said good-night to Winny.

  "Oh how I wish I had never been cross to her!" I kept thinking; and if_only_ I could make other children understand how _dreadful_ thatfeeling was, I am sure, quite sure, they would never, never quarrel.

  The next day was just the same, playing alone, dinner alone, everythingalone. I was so lonely. I never saw aunty till the evening, when itwas nearly bed-time, and then she came to the room where I was, and Icalled out to her immediately to ask how