But as Winifred lay in bed thinking, it dawned upon her slowly that her going away would make very little difference to anybody in the world—that only mamma would miss her, and that only because mamma was mamma, not for anything her child had ever done for her.
A resolution came into Winifred’s mind.
“I will be different,” she said. “I will do something before I go to show them I am fond of them, and then perhaps they will miss me more. I should like to do something for a good many people. There are the boys, and the servants—and—and—Oh, I must think about it. I have a good deal of money: I will see what I can do.”
Winnie turned over this idea very many times in her head, as she lay waiting for nurse to dress her. She rose late, and breakfast was not over till nearly half-past ten.
“There doesn’t seem any time left to think this morning,” said Winnie, after she had taken a little walk in the garden with her mamma. “I feel tired now, I will watch the swallows a little, and think after dinner.”
Presently nurse came in.
“Miss Winifred, dear,” she said, “Mary wants to clean out the young gentlemen’s play-room to-day; but it’s their half-holiday, and she doesn’t like to begin unless they can come here when they come home. You look pretty well to-day, I think. You won’t mind letting them into the nursery?”
“Oh, not to-day, nursey, I couldn’t do with them to-day,” answered Winnie, looking distressed. “Indeed I would if I could, but I have so much to think about to-day. I can’t think when they are here—and it’s about them too. It can’t make any difference to Mary what day she cleans the room. Please tell her I’m very sorry, but I really can’t to-day. I don’t think she can mind.”
Winifred’s pale little face looked pleading and earnest. Nurse said no more to urge her.
“Very well, dear, we will arrange something somehow. Mary does not want to put you out. Have you anything you want to do to-day?”