headpiece to A New Red Riding-hood
A New Red Riding-hood.
'Now, Miss Sibyl, why did you go and tell that "Red Riding-hood" to Baby? You know it always makes him cry, the soft-hearted darling!'
'Well, he ought to learn not to be so silly. I won't amuse the little ones again, nurse, if you want me to spoil them!' said Sibyl, with dignity.
'I do think you might make the story end nicely, any way,' grumbled nurse, hushing Baby, who was crying lustily.
'I can't make it end well, nurse. It would not be true to say she was saved, because she wasn't—she was eaten!'
This was Sibyl's parting shot as she ran out of the nursery.
'Never you mind what she says, my lambie; there are no wolves here at all, and Red Riding-hood was not killed. There, stop crying, my beauty, and you shall come and help me sort the linen in the next room. No, not you, Miss Jean; one is enough to worrit; you just stay here till tea-time, like a good girl.'
So nurse went away with Baby, leaving little seven-year-old Jean alone in the great nursery.
The gas was not yet lit, and the familiar room looked strange and mysterious in the dim, uncertain light of the fire. The corners were shrouded in gloom, and the dancing flames threw huge, flickering shadows upon the walls.