I had touched the right chord; the vehement childish sense of wrong was stirred, and with eager, blundering earnestness, she detailed her grievances. Félicie never would wake up; Félicie wouldn't give her a drink of water some nights when she was _so_ thirsty; Félicie left her alone sometimes when it was _so_ dark; and Félicie was cross, and Félicie was wicked, and, in fine, she hated her. I shook my head at this, and gave her a little moral lecture upon the wickedness of hating nurses, further illustrating and embellishing my subject by the story of a little girl who had once indulged in that dreadful passion, and had come to a very sad end in consequence. The moral lecture, I am afraid, was overlooked; but the story was most greedily received, and I was obliged to succeed it with another and another, before I could induce her to go and get her clothes, and let me put them on for her. When she was nearly dressed, Félicie woke up, and not finding her young charge in bed, was somewhat startled and unmistakably angry, and in no dulcet tones was calling her name, when she looked into my room, and, on seeing me, sank suddenly into a softer strain, and apologized for oversleeping: she had had such a wakeful night, was not well, etc., and would Mademoiselle Esther come and have her hair brushed now? Mademoiselle Esther, a moment before the quietest, gentlest child alive, had, at the sound of that voice, flushed up into angry defiance, and planting herself at my side, met her nurse's advance with a very ugly scowl. She wouldn't go and have her hair brushed; she didn't want a nice clean apron on; she didn't care if she was late for breakfast; and Félicie, though she never lost the bland tone she had assumed, looked malignant enough to have "shaken her out of her shoes and stockings." At length I persuaded her to submit to Félicie's proposals, and be made ready to go down to breakfast with me, and she held very firm possession of my hand, as, after the bell had rung, we descended the stairs. My aunt was already below; Grace and Josephine straggled in after long intervals; indeed, we were half through breakfast before they came down. My aunt looked charmingly in her fresh morning dress and pretty cap, was very kind, gave Esther and me her cheek to kiss, and, after reading the paper, talked to me somewhat. Esther seemed not to have much appetite; but having set her heart upon a roll and some cold chicken, her mamma had graciously allowed her to be gratified, and she was very tranquilly eating her breakfast, when the entrance of Grace, who made some teasing little gesture as she passed, made her pout and whine, and disturbed her serenity considerably. It was not, however, till Grace, calling to the servant for some marmalade, suggested a forbidden dainty to her mind, and she exclaimed, "I want marmalade, too," that the worst came.