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 "Please," said Fen, presently, "tell me some more things about when I was so little"

"Well," said Auntie, glancing toward him and making vigorous dabs with her brush, "you had a queer sort of doll-thing that was very old. You called it Dearmisslady, and you always took it to bed with you,—everywhere, in fact,—into your bath, and out for a walk, and to dinner. It had one button eye, and all the rest of its face had disappeared."

"I do remember that," said Fen; "I did love Dearmisslady. But it's queer I can't remember lots of things—I think I forgot, after I got hurt."

"But you were so little when that happened—why, not much more than half-past two—poor baby!" murmured Auntie, painting violently.

"I didn't know you knew about it," said Fen, shyly. "I thought p'raps you'd