"Ses," said Ted, "'Sunny' is nicest."
"Well, we'll call her 'Sunny.' The reason that she was so different was partly that she hadn't been born in the forest. Her father, who was the son of these old people, had gone away, as some few of the forest people did, to another country, and there he had married a bright-haired, pretty girl. But she had died, and he himself got very ill, and he had only strength to bring his baby girl back to the forest to his parents when he too died. So Sunny's history had been rather sad, you see, but still it hadn't made her sad—it seemed as if the sunshine was in her somehow, and that nothing could send it away."
Mabel stopped. Voices and steps were heard coming near.
"They're coming back," she said. "I'll have to finish the story another time. I didn't think it would take so long to tell."
"Oh do go on now, dear, dear Mabel, oh do!" cried Ted beseechingly.
But Mabel's fair face grew red.
"I couldn't, Ted, dear," she said, "not before big people," and Percy sympathised with her.
"We'll hear the rest in the garden at home," he said.
"Thoo won't tell it without me, not without Ted, p'ease," asked the little fellow.
"No, no, of course not, darling," said Mabel as she kissed his eager face.