Mrs. Murdoch put down her piece of sewing very deliberately. "Donald asked me if he could have the use of the playhouse," she said. "I never allow him to play in the street, and his room is so small that he cannot enjoy playing there, and there is no room that can be spared for a play room in the house, besides, if there were it would be much better to let him play out there in the garden where he can make all the noise he chooses."
"But," said Eleanor, the tears beginning to rise, "that is my owny-doney house. Papa had it built e'spressly for me. It's my own, my very own, and I don't want Donald to have it. I should think he could play in the garden and the wood-shed and in such places as the other boys in the town do."
Here spoke up Olive. "I think you are very selfish. Don't you, mamma? I always give up to Donald when mamma asks me to, don't I, mamma?"
"I don't care; he is your brother and that is different," replied Eleanor.
"All the more that he is not your brother," returned Olive. "I don't think you are a bit generous about your things when Donald is a stranger here, too, and he doesn't know near so many people as you do. Mamma said that if he got acquainted with one or two nice boys that she would allow him to have them here to play if they could play in the playhouse."
Poor Eleanor looked the picture of distress. To be accused of selfishness and to be robbed of her dearly loved place of refuge, that was too much to stand, and she turned from the room without a word, scarcely hearing Mrs. Murdoch's words: "You can have Barbara, for a little while to help you move your toys. Olive will be kind enough to give a portion of her time to the baby, I am sure. Go, Olive, and tell Barbara to help Miss Eleanor to carry in her things. Your room will be quite large enough to hold them, Eleanor."
By this time Eleanor had fled to the garret and there Bubbles found her, after some searching, crying as if her heart would break. "He stole my key, Bubbles, he did, and he's moving everything out of my dear house, and——Oh, I wish mamma would come home. Nobody loves me here. I want my own mamma." Bubbles was the picture of distress, she possessed herself of one of Eleanor's hands; patting and stroking it, she begged the unhappy child not to cry, comforting her as best she could, so that after a while Eleanor, with a great sigh, stopped her sobbing and said: "I suppose I am very selfish, for mamma gave up her house to Cousin Ellen, and I ought to give up mine to Donald. Come, Bubbles, let's move the things, but I hate Donald; I just can't bear him."
They proceeded to the garden where Donald was still busy setting dolls and dishes outside the little house. Without a word Eleanor and Bubbles began picking up the things to carry them to the house. "You can just leave the books and pictures," said Donald, condescendingly. "I don't mind having them there. Most of the books are girl books, but some of them, those fairy tales and things like that, I can read."
"I shall not leave one single thing," said Eleanor shortly.
"You're a mean, selfish girl," retorted Donald, and catching sight of her swollen cheeks and red eyelids, he added: "Cry-baby, cry-baby, had to give up your house whether you wanted to or not, didn't you?"