The child nestled close to her mother.
"It would be nice, mamma, only nothing pleasant happens now that Don is dead."
"Why, why," exclaimed Mrs. Davenport, "that isn't at all like my happy Beth. Put on your thinking cap and see if you can't remember something nice that happened to-day."
Beth remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly smiled.
"Why, yes, mamma, now that I think of it, a whole lot of nice things happened. Do you know, ever since Don died, Julia has been perfectly lovely. She always plays just as I want to. And what do you think? Harvey played with Julia and me to-day, and he would never stay before when Julia was here. We even got him to play dolls with us, although he said dolls were beneath a boy."
Mrs. Davenport smiled. "Why should he feel that way?"
"Well, you see, mamma, he doesn't think much of girls and their play. He's always saying to me, 'Beth, don't you wish you were a boy?' So one day I answered, 'No, indeed, Harvey.' It wasn't quite the truth, mamma, for I should like to be a boy, but I wouldn't let him know it. Then I asked him: 'Don't you wish you were a girl, Harvey?'"
"What did he say, dear?"
"He grunted and said, 'Eh—be a girl? I'd rather be nothing than be a girl.'"
Mrs. Davenport could hardly keep her face straight; nevertheless, she said gravely: