in vain to imitate him, and was flattered
rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was
batting, she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to
you that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in
the daytime.

But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt
for Maimie and eyed her fearfully; and no wonder, for with dark there
came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. It
was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy
glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which
he always took away from her next morning), and she accepted them with
a disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she
so mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent
to bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not
to do it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened
her, but Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. And by and by when
they were alone with their night-light she would start up in bed crying
'Hsh! what was that?' Tony beseeches her, 'It was nothing--don't,
Maimie, don't' and pulls the sheet over his head. 'It is coming
nearer!' she cries. 'Oh, look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed
with its horns--it is boring for you, O Tony, oh!' and she desists not
until he rushes downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they
came up to whip Maimie they usually found her sleeping tranquilly--not
shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest
little angel, which seems to me to make it almost worse.

But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then
Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he
was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She
would have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his
sister. And at no time did she admire him more than when he told her,
as he often did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to remain
behind in the Gardens after the gates were closed.

'O Tony,' she would say with awful respect, 'but the fairies will be so
angry!'

'I dare say,' replied Tony carelessly.

'Perhaps,' she said, thrilling, 'Peter Pan will give you a sail in his
boat!'

'I shall make him,' replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him.

But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were