“And to make me wise too,” said Dora, timidly. “Haven’t you, Doady?”

I nodded assent to the pretty inquiry of the raised eyebrows, and kissed the parted lips.

“It’s of not a bit of use,” said Dora, shaking her head, until the earrings rang again. “You know what a little thing I am, and what I wanted you to call me from the first. If you can’t do so, I am afraid you’ll never like me. Are you sure you don’t think, sometimes, it would have been better to have⁠—”

“Done what, my dear?” For she made no effort to proceed.

“Nothing!” said Dora.

“Nothing?” I repeated.

She put her arms round my neck, and laughed, and called herself by her favourite name of a goose, and hid her face on my shoulder in such a profusion of curls that it was quite a task to clear them away and see it.