"She isn't a child that likes play," said my aunt.
"Find some play that she does like, then. Where are her father and mother?"
"Just sailed for Europe, a few weeks ago."
"The best thing would be for her to sail after them," said the old doctor. And he went.
"We shall have to let her do just as they did at Melbourne," said my aunt.
"How was that?" said Miss Pinshon.
"Let her have just her own way."
"And what was that?"
"Oh, queer," said my aunt. "She is not like other children. But anything is better than to have her mope to death."