"My goodness!" gasped Papa Cameron, entering into the spirit of his little daughter's imaginings, as he almost always did, "you wouldn't really want to know that you were _wormy_, would you, Snuggy? My goodness! Just like a wormy chestnut, or a wormy apple! I couldn't love a wormy little girl, I am afraid." Carolyn, sitting on his lap, allowed herself to shudder deliciously at the thought. "Mamma says the nerves are under my skin and that they spread all over me, like a fine net. Like a hair-net, I spect. And if they were worms crawling under my skin I don't believe they would feel any worse." So Carolyn's visits with her dog to the pale lady were curtailed because of the dressmaking activities. Nevertheless, within the following few weeks the little girl became very good friends indeed with Mrs. Laird. She never saw Mr. Laird, but they often spoke of him, for the pale lady evidently loved him very much and believed heartily that he was a much more worthy man than their circumstances seemed to suggest. What Mr. Laird did for a living Carolyn was never told; but it was evident he did not earn much money. The pale lady was continually taking medicine, so the doctor must get a good part of what her husband earned; and the baby had cost a great deal, of course. "Yes; they always do," agreed Carolyn May, commenting upon this final fact. "It seems just as though nobody ever finds a baby that doesn't need a doctor, and nurses, and clothes, and a baby carriage, and a whole lot of things. It would be lots nicer," observed Carolyn May, stating an obvious fact as though it were quite original, "if babies were left right outside your door in a nice carriage all dressed up, and with a boxful of clothes. Then there wouldn't be a single, sol'tary thing to worry about." "I believe, Carolyn May," said the pale lady, laughing faintly, "that if you could make this old world over you would have things much more nicely arranged than they now are. I am sure we should all be happier." "Oh, as for being happy," said the little girl, "that is altogether in our own hands. So my papa says. It's just like burning a tiny, tiny candle in a very dark place, he says. Never mind how small the light is, right close to it there is plenty to see by. We may not light up the whole big world with our little candle; but we can light ourselves, anyway. Papa Cameron," added the small philosopher, who came honestly enough by her optimism, "says always to look out and up, never to look inside us at our troubles. You know," and the giggles bubbled up and the little girl's eyes danced. "You know, he always says he works for the firm of 'Grin and Bearit' and so, no matter what happens, he is prepared for it. "It's an awful nice way to be," added the little girl. "My papa's a real comferble man to have about the house. My mamma often says so."