"Why."
"Because she couldn't. She would rub her eyes, and go away and say she
felt queer, and forget half of it and more, and then say it had been all
a dream."
"Just like me," said Irene, feeling very much ashamed of herself.
"Yes, a good deal like you, but not just like you; for you've come
again; and Lootie wouldn't have come again. She would have said, No,
no--she had had enough of such nonsense."
"Is it naughty of Lootie then?"
"It would be naughty of you. I've never done anything for Lootie."
"And you did wash my face and hands for me," said Irene, beginning to
cry.
The old lady smiled a sweet smile and said--
Madhuri Noah
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