or "put out," _or_, to say it quite
plainly, "in a bad temper," it is no use, even though it is rather
difficult not to do so, to go "bang at them," with some such questions
as these: "What _is_ the matter with you?" "What _are_ you looking so
cross about?" "Have you been quarrelling, you tiresome children?" and so
on. Especially if, as these children's mamma just now was clever enough
to find out, the angry feelings are beginning to soften down into
unhappiness, and the first little whisper of "wishing I hadn't been so
cross"--or "so unkind," is faintly making its way into the foolish,
troubled little hearts. At that moment a sharp or severe word is sadly
apt to drown the gentle fairy voice, and to open the door again to all
the noisy, ugly imps of obstinacy and pride and unkind resentment, who
were just _beginning_ to think they had best slink off.

So this loving and wise--wise because she was loving, and loving because
she was wise!--mother said nothing, except--

[Illustration: "I did some knitting"]

"I am so sorry not to have come up before, dears, but I have been very
busy. Has it been a very dull afternoon for my poor little prisoners?"

"Not so very," said Dolly, slipping off her seat, and sidling up to her
mother, who had settled herself on the old rocking-chair by the fire,
with a nice comfortable look, as if she were not in a hurry. "Not so
very--we read some stories, and I did six rows of my knitting, and Max
cut out some more paper animals for poor little Billy Stokes--and--then
we went to our windows and began looking out," but here Dolly's voice
dropped suspiciously.

"Well," said her mother, "that all sounds very nice. But what happened
when you were looking out at your windows?"

"Nothing _happened_," said Max, slowly.

"Well--what did you see? And what did you _say_? I can tell from your
faces that things haven't gone cheerfully with you all the
afternoon--now have they?" said mamma.

"No," Dolly replied eagerly, "they haven't. Only p'r'aps we'd better say
nothing more about it. I don't want it all to begin again. If Max likes
I'll try to forget all about it, and be friends again."

"I don't mind being friends again," said Max, "I'd rather. But I don't
see how we _can_ forget about it--they're sure to be there again
to-morrow, and then we _couldn't_ forget about them. Oh, I wonder if
they're there still, if it's not too dark to see them," he went on,
suddenly darting to the window. "Then m