There came a morning when Gretzel was given no breakfast. She protested to the head nurse.
“Santy will be very mad on me if I don’t eat my egg,” she declared.
“I think he will forgive you this time, dear,” answered the nurse.
“Why?” Gretzel asked pointedly.
“Because—because—”
“I ain’t beau-ti-ful yet,” Gretzel interrupted with a glance at her thin arm.
The nurse threw herself on her knees by the side of the girl. She kissed that thin arm again and again.
“Yes, you are beautiful and wonderful,” she half sobbed. “Don’t ask me questions, Gretzel. Please don’t ask me questions.”
Gretzel placed her hand on the nurse’s head. She didn’t like to see anyone worried. And because, here, she herself seemed always to be the cause of worry she answered reassuringly the only comforting thing she could think of: