tolove them too. I never see one now without thinking of her and thethings she used to say about them. I can see now, now that I am so mucholder, that Winny must have been a very clever little girl in some ways,not so much in learning lessons as in thinking things to herself, andunderstanding feelings and thoughts that children do not generally careabout at all. She was very pretty too, I can remember her face so well.She had blue eyes and very long black eyelashes--our mamma used toteaze her sometimes, and say that she had what Irish people call "blueeyes put in with dirty fingers"--and pretty rosy cheeks, and a verywhite forehead. And her face always had a bright dancing look that Ican remember best of all.
We learnt lessons together, and we slept together in two little bedsside by side, and we did everything together, from eating our breakfastto dressing our dolls--and when one was away the other seemed only halfalive. All our frocks and hats and jackets were exactly the same, andexcept that Winny was taller than I, we should never have known whichwas which of our things. I am sure Winny was a very good little girl,but when I try to remember all about her exactly, what seems to comeback most to me is her being always so happy. She did not need to thinkmuch about being good and not naughty; everything seemed to come rightlyto her of itself. She thought the world was a very pretty, nice place;and she loved all her friends, and she loved God most of all for givingthem to her. She used to say she was sure Heaven would be a very happyplace too, only she did so hope there would be plenty of flowers there,and she was disappointed because mamma said it did not tell in the Biblewhat kinds of flowers there would be. Almost the only thing which madeher unhappy was about there being so many very poor people in the world.She used to talk about it very often and wonder why it was, and whenshe was very, very little, she cried because nurse would not let hergive away her best velvet jacket to a poor little girl she saw on theroad.
But though Winny was so sweet, and though we loved each other so,sometimes we did quarrel. Now and then it was quite little quarrelswhich were over directly, but once we had a bigger quarrel. Even now Ido not like to remember it; and oh! how I do wish I could make otherboys and girls feel as I do about quarrelling. Even little tinysquabbles seem to me to be sorrowful things, and then they so often growinto bigger ones. It was generally mostly my fault. I was peevish andcross sometimes, and Winny was never worse than just hasty and quick fora moment. She was always ready to make friends again, "to kissourselves to make the quarrel go away," as our little sister Dolly usedto say, almost before she could speak. And sometimes I was silly, andthen it was right for Winny to find fault with me. My manners usedoccasionally to trouble her, for she was very particular about suchthings. One day I remember she was very vexed with me for something Isaid to a gentleman who was dining with our papa and mamma. He was anice kind gentleman, and we liked him, only we did not think him pretty.Winny and I had fixed together that we did not think him pretty, onlyof course Winny never thought I would be so silly as to _tell_ him so.We came down to dessert that evening--Winny sat beside papa, and I satbetween Mr Merton and mamma, and after I had sat quite still, lookingat him without speaking, I suddenly said,--I can't think what mademe--"Mr Merton, I don't think you are at all pretty. Your hair goesstraight down, and up again all of a sudden at the end, just like ourold drake's tail."
Mr Merton laughed very much, and papa laughed, and mamma did too,though not so much. But Winny did not laugh at all. Her face got red,and she would not eat her raisins, but asked if she might keep them forDolly, and she seemed quite unhappy. And when we had said good-night,and had gone upstairs, I could see how vexed she was. She was so vexedthat she even gave me a little shake. "Meg," she said, "I am so ashamedof you. I am really. How _could_ you be so rude?"
I began to cry, and I said I did not mean to be rude; and I promisedthat I would never say things like that again; and then Winny forgaveme; but I never forgot it. And once I remember, too, that she was vexedwith me because I would not speak to a little girl who came to pay avisit to her grandfather, who lived at _our_ grandfather's lodge. Winnystopped to say good-morning to her, and to ask her if her friends athome were quite well; and the little girl curtseyed and looked sopleased. But I walked on, and when Winny called to me to stop I wouldnot; and then, when she asked me what was the matter, I said I did notthink we needed to speak to the little girl, she was quite a commonchild, and we were ladies. Winny _was_ vexed with me then; she was toovexed to give me a little shake even. She did not speak for a minute,and then she said, very sadly, "Meg, I _am_ sorry you don't know betterthan that what being a lady means."
I do know better now, I hope; but was it not strange that Winny _always_seemed to know better about these things? It came of itself to her, Ithink, because her heart was so kind and happy.
Winny was very fond of listening to stories, and of making them up andtelling them to me; but she was not very fond of reading to herself.She liked writing best, and I liked reading. We used to say that whenwe were big girls, Winny should write all mamma's letters for her, and Ishould read aloud to her when she was tired. How little we thought thattime would _never_ come! We were always talking about what we should dowhen we were big; but sometimes when we had been talking a long time,Winny would stop suddenly, and say, "Meg, growing big seems a dreadfullylong way off. It almost tires me to think of it. What a great, greatdeal we shall have to learn before then, Meg!" I wonder what gave herthat feeling.
Shall I tell you now about the worst quarrel we ever had? It was aboutWinny's best doll. The doll's name was "Poupee." Of course I know nowthat that is the French for all dolls; but we were so little then we didnot understand, and when our aunt's French maid told us that "poupee"was the word for doll, we thought it a very pretty name, and somehow thedoll was always called by it. Grandfather had given "Poupee" to Winny--I think he brought it from London for her--and I cannot tell you howproud she was of it. She did not play with it every day, only onholidays and treat-days; but every day she used to peep at "Poupee" inthe drawer where she lay, and kiss her, and say how pretty she looked.One afternoon Winny was going out somewhere--I don't remember exactlywhere; I daresay it was a drive with mamma--and I was not to go, and Iwas crying; and just as Winny was running down-stairs all ready dressedto go, she came back and whispered to me, "Meg, dear, don't cry. Ittakes away all my pleasure to see you. Will you leave off crying andlook happy if I let you have `Poupee' to play with while I am out?"
I wiped away my tears in a minute, I _was_ so pleased. Winny ran to"Poupee's" drawer and got her out, and brought her to me. She kissedher as she put her into my arms, and she said to her, "My darling`Poupee,' you are going to spend the afternoon with your aunt. You mustbe a very good little girl, and do exactly what she tells you."
And then Winny said to me, "You _will_ be very careful of her, won'tyou, Meg?" and I promised, of course, that I would.
I did mean to be careful, and I really was; but for all that a sadaccident happened. I had been very happy with "Poupee" all theafternoon, and I had made her a new apron with a piece of muslin nursegave me, and some ribbon, which did nicely for bows; and I was carryingher along the passage to show nurse how pretty the apron looked, whenthe housemaid, who was coming along with a trayful of clean clothes fromthe wash in her arms, knocked against me, and "Poupee" was thrown down;and, terrible to tell, her dear, sweet little right foot was broken. Icannot tell you how sorry I was, and nurse was sorry too, and so wasJane; but all the sorrow would not mend the foot. I was sitting on thenursery floor, with "Poupee" in my lap, crying over her, as miserable ascould be, when Winny rushed in, laden with parcels, in the highestspirits.
"O! I have had such a nice drive, and I have brought some buns andsponge-cakes for tea, and a toy donkey for Blanche. And has Poupee beengood?" she exclaimed. But just then she caught sight of my face. "Whatis the matter, Meg? What _have_ you done to my darling, beautifulPoupee? O Meg, Meg, you surely haven't broken her?"
I was crying so I could hardly speak.
> "O Winny!" I said, "I am so sorry."
But Winny was too vexed to care just at first for anything I could say."You naughty, naughty, unkind Meg," she said, "I do believe you did iton purpose."
I could not bear that. I thought it very hard indeed that she shouldsay so, when any one could see how miserable I was. I did not answerher; I ran out of the nursery, and though Winny called to me to comeback (for the moment she had said those words she was sorry for them), Iwould not listen to her. Nurse fetched me back soon, however, for itwas tea-time, but I would not speak to Winny. We never had such amiserable tea; there we sat, two red-eyed, unhappy little girls, lookingas if we did not love each other a bit. If
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