But Mary looked up with her lips quivering still more, and the tears beginning to come too.
“It isn’t presents I want,” she said. “Not presents like that way. I—I want mamma. Mammas shouldn’t have headaches. It takes away all the birfday-ness.”
Then she turned her head round and pressed it in to nurse’s shoulder and burst into tears.
Chapter Two.
Guessing.
Poor nurse was very sorry. But she knew it would not do to be too sorry for Mary, for then she would go on crying. And once Mary got into a long cry it sometimes went on to be a very long one indeed. So nurse spoke to her quite brightly.
“My dearie,” she said, “you mustn’t cry on your birthday morning. It’s quite a mistake. Look up, dear. See, the sun’s coming out so beautiful again, and we’ll have Master Leigh and Master Artie calling for their breakfast. And you’ll have to be quick, for your papa gave me a message to say you were to go down to see him in the dining-room.”