"That was a stupid thing to do," said Josie, "because he couldn't have the moon, but I can have you."
"You mean he was stupid to cry, because crying wouldn't bring the moon to him."
"No, I don't mean that," said Josie, not choosing to be caught in a trap. "You want me to say that I was just as stupid to cry for you, because crying wouldn't bring you either. But if I cried so as to make myself ill—wouldn't you come then?"
"I think I should send the doctor," said Leveson. He sat down and took Josie within his arm. "I have been very busy, Josie; still I have not forgotten my promise to my pet."
"You always are busy," said Josie. "I don't see why all the poor children in London are always to come before me."
"Which stands in the most need of help?"
"I think I do," said Josie decidedly, "because I haven't one single little girl to play games with me, and the poor children have hundreds."
"And not having a single little girl, you want a big brother instead."
"I'd rather have you than all the little girls in the world," said Josie. "But you see now, Leveson, I really do want you very much. It isn't only fancy."
"No, I see,—it is a question of health," said Leveson.