"If she were here," he went on," she'd only scold and interfere.
Toinette almost always scolds. I like to have her go away. It makes it
pleasanter."

"It is rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, "only I'd like her to be
having a nice time somewhere else."

"Bother about Toinette," cried Pierre.

"Let's play 'My godmother has cabbage to sell.'"

I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy in her life, as when
she stood by unseen, and heard the children say these words. She had
never meant to be unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered, dreamy,
wrapped up in herself. She did not like being interrupted by them, it
put her out, and she spoke sharply and was cross. She had taken it for
granted that the others must love her, by a sort of right, and the
knowledge that they did not grieved over very much. Creeping away, she
hid herself in the woods. It was a sparkling day, but the sun did not
look so bright as usual. Cuddled down under a rosebush, Toinette sat
sobbing as if her heart would break at the recollection of the speeches
she had overheard.

By and by a little voice within her woke up and began to make itself
audible. All of us know this little voice. We call it conscience.

"Jeanneton missed me," she thought. "And, oh, dear! I pushed her away
only last night and wouldn't tell her a story. And Marie hoped I was
having a pleasant time somewhere. I wish I hadn't slapped Marie last
Friday. And I wish I hadn't thrown Marc's ball into the fire that day I