rs of the grey pillow. Stella, feeling that the
fretful tears of a sudden awakening were insufficient, set up a bellow
of dismay. Michael was motionless, only aware of a gigantic heart that
shook him horribly. At last the footsteps of Nurse could be heard, and
over them, the quick 'tut-tut-tuts' that voiced her irritation.

"You naughty boy, to wake up your little sister."

"What was that noise?" asked Michael.

"Your own noise," said Nurse sharply.

"It wasn't. It was lions."

"And if it _was_ lions, what next?" said Nurse. "Lions will always come,
when little boys are naughty. Lions don't like naughty boys."

"Michael doesn't like lions."

He took refuge in the impersonal speech of earlier days, and with a
grave obstinacy of demeanour resisted the unreasonableness of his nurse.

"What was that noise, Nanny? Do tell me."

"Why a train, of course. There's a molly-coddle. Tut-tut!"

"A train like we rode in from down in the country?"

"Yes, a train like we rode in from down in the country!" Nurse mimicked
him in an outrageous falsetto.

"Not lions at all?"

"Not if you're a good boy."

"Nor bears--nor tigers--nor wolverines?"

The last was a dreadful importation of fancy from some zoological
gift-book.

"Now that's enough," Nurse decided.

"Nor laughing hyenas?"

"Am I to speak to you again? As if there wasn't enough to do without
children why-why-whying morning, noon and night."

Michael recognized finality of argument. The mention of morning, noon
and night with their dreary suggestion of the infinite and unattainable
plunged him into silence. Nurse, gratified by her victory and relieved
to find that Stella was crooning happy mysteries to a rag doll,
announced that she was prepared in return for the very best behaviour to
push the two cots against the window. This done, she left the children
to their first survey of London airs, to silent wonder amid the cheeping
of countless sparrows.

Stella sat blinking at the light and the sailing clouds. She soon began
to chant her saga. Primitive and immemorial sounds flowed from that dewy
mouth; melodies and harmonies, akin to the day itself, voiced the
progress of the clouds; and while she told her incommunicable delight
there was actually no one to say 'Stella, will you stop that 'umming?'
Michael could not compete with his sister in her interpretation of the
clouds' courses. He had, indeed, tried once or twice; but Stella either
stopped abruptly, lea