Mamma shook her head.
"No, dear," she answered. "I am quite sure her grandmother would not like that. For you see anybody might come into the shop or show-rooms, and it would not seem nice for a little girl to be playing there—not nice for a carefully brought-up little girl, I mean."
"Then I don't think I should care to go to her house," I said, "but I would like her to come here. Please let her, mamma dear."
But mamma only said,
"We shall see."
After tea she told us stories—some of them we had heard often before, but we never tired of hearing them again—about when she and Aunty Etta were little girls. They were lovely stories—real ones of course. Mamma was not as clever as Aunty Etta about making up fairy ones.
We were quite sorry when it was time to go to bed.
After I had been asleep for a little that night I woke up again—I had not been very sound asleep. Just then I saw a light, and mamma came into the room with a candle.
"I'm not asleep, dear mamma," I said. "Do kiss me again."