"Paulina, you should not grieve that Graham does not care for you so much as you care for him. It must be so."
Her lifted and questioning eyes asked why.
"Because he is a boy and you are a girl; he is sixteen and you are only six; his nature is strong and gay, and yours is otherwise."
"But I love him so much; he should love me a little."
"He does. He is fond of you. You are his favourite."
"Am I Graham's favourite?"
"Yes, more than any little child I know."
The assurance soothed her; she smiled in her anguish.
"But," I continued, "don't fret, and don't expect too much of him, or else he will feel you to be troublesome, and then it is all over."
"All over!" she echoed softly, "then I'll be good. I'll try to be good, Lucy Snowe."
I put her to bed.
"Will he forgive me this one time?" she asked, as I undressed myself. I assured her that he would; that as yet he was by no means alienated; that she had only to be careful for the future.
