“Don’t cry,” darlings, she whispered to the little ones, “Maly will soon come back again, and if only it was summer she would bring you some pretty flowers from the forest.”
Then Fritz stopped crying to whisper something in return, which at first she could not make out, but at last she did. It was “fir-cones”—nurse said there were fir-cones in the “follest.”
At this they all brightened up.
“Of course there are,” said Mary, “and I’ll bring you some to make a nice blaze in the nursery fire.”
“And to play wif,” said Twitter.
“Yes, you may keep some to play with,” Mary replied.
“Don’t make too sure of them, my dears,” said nurse, rather shortly; “Miss Mary will most likely be enjoying herself too much to care to be troubled with gathering fir-cones.”
Mary felt rather hurt, and before she had time to say anything her aunt turned to nurse, and said rather coldly,—
“Nonsense, nurse. You should know Miss Mary too well by this time to think that she would grudge a little trouble to please her cousins.”
Mary felt inclined to hug her aunt, and nurse looked sorry, and glancing at Pleasance, who was standing near the door, she saw by the little smile on the maid’s face that she too, as well as the children’s mother, had understood Mary’s feelings.