"Why neiver is it Cann?" "That isn't grammar. You should say, 'Why can it not either?'" "Why?" "I don't know." "Say prehaps." "No, I can't even say prehaps." "Well, say I shall understand when I'm a big girl." "You'll understand when you're a big girl, Margery," I said solemnly. "Oh, I see." "That's right. Now then, what about going to sleep?" She was silent for a moment, and I thought I was safe. Then. "Uncle, just tell me--why was 'at little boy crying vis morning?" "Which little boy?" "Ve one in 'e road." "Oh, that one. Well, he was crying because his Uncle hadn't had any sleep all night, and when he tried to go to sleep in the afternoon----" "Say prehaps again." My first rejected contribution! I sighed and had another shot. "Well, then," I said gallantly, "it must have been because he hadn't got a sweet little girl of three to play with him." "Yes," said Margery, nodding her head thoughtfully, "'at was it." VI. A TWICE TOLD TALE "Is that you, uncle?" said a voice from the nursery, as I hung my coat up in the hall. "I've only got my skin on, but you can come up." However, she was sitting up in bed with her nightgown on when I found her. "I was having my bath when you came," she explained. "Have you come all the way from London?" "All the way." "Then will you tell me a story?" "I can't; I'm going to have my dinner. I only came up to say good night." Margery leant forward and whispered coaxingly, "Will you just tell me about Beauty and 'e Beast?" "But I've told you that such heaps of times. And it's much too long for to-night." "Tell me _half_ of it. As much as _that_." She held her hands about nine inches apart. "That's too much." "As much as _that_." The hands came a little nearer together. "Oh! Well, I'll tell you up to where the Beast died." "_Fought_ he died," she corrected eagerly. "Yes. Well----" "How much will that be? As much as I said?" I nodded. The preliminary business settled, she gave a little sigh of happiness, put her arms round her knees, and waited breathlessly for the story she had heard twenty times before. "Once upon a time there was a man who had three daughters. And one day----" "What was the man's name?" "Margery," I said reproachfully, annoyed at the interruption, "you know I _never_ tell you the man's name." "Tell me now." "Oswald," I said after a moment's thought. "I told Daddy it was Thomas," said Margery casually. "Well, as a matter of fact he had two names, Oswald _and_ Thomas." "Why did he have two names?" "In case he lost one. Well, one day this man, who was very poor, heard that a lot of money was waiting for him in a ship which had come over the sea to a town some miles off. So he----" "Was it waiting at Weymouf?" "Somewhere like that." "I spex it must have been Weymouf, because there's lots of sea there." "Yes, I'm sure it was. Well, he thought he'd go to Weymouth and get the money." "How much monies was it?" "Oh, lots and lots."