"Come, Nelly," she urged; "answer mother!" Who has not coveted a child's thought at times?
This one seemed to consider.
"Be-tos," she said at last, cryptically, like some little Chinese oracle.
"Be-tos, of what? That's not any answer. And, oh, law! child, how backward you do speak for a great girl of four!"
Hard pressed, Nelly struggled to her feet. She clenched her little hands, puckered her forehead. The mother held her breath as she waited.
"Be-tos——Oh! be-tos she didn't smell nice!"
And, as the woman rolled back, shaking unrestrainedly with laughter.
"——like you do, mummy; like you do, mummy," the child cried, flinging her arms round her mother's neck and burying her flushed face in the soft shoulder.
VII
MOSTLY LADY ANNE