“Is that what you have been trying?” cried Dora. “Oh what a shocking boy!”
“But I shall never try any more,” said I. “For I love her dearly as she is.”
“Without a story—really?” inquired Dora, creeping closer to me.
“Why should I seek to change,” said I, “what has been so precious to me for so long! You never can show better than as your own natural self, my sweet Dora; and we’ll try no conceited experiments, but go back to our old way, and be happy.”
“And be happy!” returned Dora. “Yes! All day! And you won’t mind things going a tiny morsel wrong, sometimes?”
“No, no,” said I. “We must do the best we can.”
“And you won’t tell me, any more, that we make other people bad,” coaxed Dora; “will you? Because you know it’s so dreadfully cross.”
“No no,” said I.
“It’s better for me to be stupid than uncomfortable, isn’t it?” said Dora.
“Better to be naturally Dora than anything else in the world.”