“Well, weep not thus broken-heartedly!” said I. “Tell me what it is, and let us see if it cannot be amended.”
“It’s Erneburg!” sobbed little Damia.
“Erneburg! But Erneburg and thou art friends!”
“Oh yes, we’re friends enough! only Mother Gaillarde won’t let me give her the tig.”
And little Damia indulged in a fresh burst of tears.
“Give her what?” I said.
“My tig! The tig she gave me. And now I must carry it all night long! She might have let me just give it her!”
I thought I saw how matters stood.
“You have been playing?”
“Yes, playing at