“Miss Winifred, dear,” she said, “Mary wants to clean out the young gentlemen’s play-room to-day; but it’s their half-holiday, and she doesn’t like to begin unless they can come here when they come home. You look pretty well to-day, I think. You won’t mind letting them into the nursery?” “Oh, not to-day, nursey, I couldn’t do with them to-day,” answered Winnie, looking distressed. “Indeed I would if I could, but I have so much to think about to-day. I can’t think when they are here--and it’s about them too. It can’t make any difference to Mary what day she cleans the room. Please tell her I’m very sorry, but I really can’t to-day. I don’t think she can mind.” Winifred’s pale little face looked pleading and earnest. Nurse said no more to urge her. “Very well, dear, we will arrange something somehow. Mary does not want to put you out. Have you anything you want to do to-day?” “I have a great deal to think about.” “Do you think with your fingers?” Winifred smiled. “No, of course not, nursey. What do you mean?” “Well, I was wondering if you could not do something with your fingers, whilst you were doing all this thinking.” Winifred was not fond of employing her idle fingers, and her face was not very responsive as she asked rather slowly: “What do you mean, nursey? I have not anything special to do.” “No, Miss Winnie; but I think there is something somebody would be very much delighted if you did do,” and nurse nodded her head mysteriously. Still Winifred did not look eager, though she asked: “What do you mean? I think I’m rather too tired to work.” “Work rests as well as tires folks,” answered nurse, looking wise. “Tell me what you want me to do, please?” said the little girl, who knew quite well whither all this was tending. “Well, dear, I thought you might like to finish the tail of Master Charley’s big kite. It is all done but the tail, and if they had that to fly, they would play in the fields with it all the while the room was being done; but it’s a good hour’s work it wants at the tail, and they would be so pleased to come in and find it done. Shall I bring you the paper and the string?” Winifred’s face put on its little wearied, fretful look. She did not speak crossly, only as if she felt it rather hard to be asked or expected to do things for other people--“little silly things,” as she said to herself, when her head was so full of the great things she meant to do. “I don’t know how to make kite-tails, nursey.” “I could show you.” “I feel tired. The boys can do it themselves quite well. I don’t think I could make a kite-tail and do my thinking too.” “Is your thinking very important, Miss Winnie?” “Yes, very.” So nurse went away, and Winnie was left alone; but somehow or other the thinking did not seem to get on. A little puzzled frown began to pucker the child’s forehead, and before long Winifred was talking slowly to herself, rather as if she was arguing with somebody, who certainly was not to be seen.