ghted it, opening toward the West.
On the white plastered wall beside it, lay a window-shaped patch of warm
pink light. The light was reflected from the sunset. Dickie had seen
this light come and go very often. He liked to have it there; it was so
pretty, he thought.

Malvina undressed him. She did not talk as much as usual, for her head
was full of the tea-party, and she was in a hurry to get through and be
off. Dickie, however, was not the least in a hurry. Slowly he raised one
foot, then the other, to have his shoes untied, slowly turned himself
that Mally might unfasten his apron. All the time he talked. Mally
thought she had never known him ask so many questions, or take so much
time about every thing.

"What makes the wall pink?" he said. "It never is 'cept just at
bedtime."

"It's the sun."

"Why doesn't the sun make it that color always?"

"The sun is setting now. He is not setting always."

"That's an improper word. You mustn't say it."

"What's an improper word?"

"Papa _said_, when I said 'setting on the door-steps,' that it wasn't
proper to say that. He said I must say _sitting_ on the door steps."

"That isn't the same thing, Goosey Gander," cried Mally laughing. "The
sun sets and little boys sit."

"I'm not a goosey gander," responded Dickie. "And Papa _said_ it wasn't
proper."

"Never mind," said Mally, whipping on his night-gown: "you're a darling,
if you are a goosey. Now say your prayers nicely."

"Yes," replied Dick, dreamily. He knelt down and began his usual prayer.
"Please, God, bless Papa and Mally and Gwandmamma and--" "make Dick a
good boy" should have come next, but his thoughts wandered. "Why don't
the sun sit as well as little boys?" he asked.

"Oh, Dickie, Dickie!" cried the scandalized Malvina. "You're saying your
prayers, you know. Good children don't stop to ask questions when
they're saying their prayers."

Dickie felt rebuked. He finished the little prayer quickly. Mally lifted
him into bed. "It's so warm that you won't want this," she said, folding
back the blanket. Then she stooped to kiss him.

"Tell me a story before you go," pleaded Dickie, holding her tight.

"Oh, not to-night, darling, because I shall be late to Jane's if I do."
She kissed him hastily.

"I don't think it's nice at all to go to bed when the sun hasn't sit,
and I'm not sleepy a bit, and there isn't nothing to play with,"
remarked Dick, plaintively.

"You'll fall asleep in a minute or two, G