"Oh, this," and she drew in her breath, and let it out again.
Martin laughed. "I was just thinking, Nance, that was all."
"Well, don't shut your eyes, and don't think, or mamma will be cross, won't you, mamma?" and she turned to an imaginary person nearby.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell a story, and mamma and I will listen."
"Tell a story, Nance! What kind of a one do you want?"
"Oh, a fairy story, about flowers, and birds, and people—a story like mamma used to tell."
Martin sat for a while without replying, watching the fire dancing merrily before him. It was a fairy-story the child wanted, and he could not remember any.
"Go on, daddy," Nance demanded.
"Yes, little one, I will. I'm only thinking."