looking at me, Dressed in a navy-blue suit and a sailor hat, with fair hair tied with ribbons; so I told Mamma, And she got me a suit, ready-made (but she said it was dreadfully dear), and a hat to match, in the Pebble Brooch Repository and Universal Bazaar. It faded in the sun, and came all to pieces in the wash; but I was tired of it before. For the esplanade is very dull, and the little girl with fair hair had got sand-boots and a shrimping-net and was playing on the shore. And when my sand-boots came home, and I'd got a better net than hers, she went donkey-riding, and I knew it was to tease me, But Nurse was so cross, and said if they sent a man in a herring-boat to the moon for what I wanted that nothing would please me. So I said the seaside was a very disagreeable place, and I wished I hadn't come, And I told Mamma so, and begged her to try and get well soon, to take us all home. But now we've got home, it's very hot, and I'm afraid of the wasps; and I'm sure it was cooler at the sea, And the Smiths won't be back for a fortnight, so I can't even have Matilda to tea. I don't care much for my new doll--I think I'm too old for dolls now; I like books better, though I didn't like the last, And I've read all I have: I always skip the dull parts, and when you skip a good deal you get through them so fast. I like toys if they're the best kind, with works; though when I've had one good game with them, I don't much care to play with them again. I feel as if I wanted something new to amuse me, and Mamma says it's because I've got such an active brain. Nurse says I don't know what I want, and I know I don't, and that's just what it is. It seems so sad a young creature like me should feel unhappy, and not know what's amiss; But Nurse never thinks of my feelings, any more than the cruel nurse in the story about the little girl who was so good, And if I die early as she did, perhaps then people will be sorry I've been misunderstood. I shouldn't like to die early, but I should like people to be sorry for me, and to praise me when I was dead: If I could only come to life again when they had missed me very much, and I'd heard what they said-- Of course that's impossible, I know, but I wish I knew what to do instead! It seems such a pity that a sweet little dear like me should ever be sad. And Mamma says she buys everything I want, and has taught me everything I will learn, and reads every book, and takes every hint she can pick up, and keeps me with her all day,