"Perhaps a child who has nothing--nothing--is
obliged to begin to THINK before it knows what thoughts are. If
they play and are loved and amused they have no time for anything
but growing and being happy. You never saw the dreadful little
rooms upstairs----"
"Dowie has told me of them," said Mademoiselle.
"Another child might have forgotten them. I never shall. I--I was
so little and they were full of something awful. It was loneliness.
The first time Andrews pinched me was one day when the thing
frightened me and I suddenly began to cry quite loud. I used
to stare out of the window and--I don't know when I noticed it
first--I could see the children being taken out by their nurses.
And there were always two or three of them and they laughed and
talked and skipped. The nurses used to laugh and talk too. Andrews
never did. When she took me to the gardens the other nurses sat
together and chattered and their children played games with other
children. Once a little girl began to talk to me and her nurse
called her away. Andrews was very angry and jerked me by my arm
and told me that if ever I spoke to a child again she would pinch
me."
"Devil!" exclaimed the Frenchwoman.
"I used to think and think, but I could never understand. How
could I?"
"A baby!" cried Mademoiselle Valle and she got up and took her in
her arms and kissed her. "Chere petite ange!" she murmured.
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