I don't want you to have a gold-headed stick, but I do want one thing, and then you _would_ be quite perfect.

Oh, grandmother dear," she went on, clasping her hands in entreaty, "just tell me this, _do_ you ever tell stories ?" Grandmother shook her head solemnly.

"I _hope_ not, my dear child," she said, but Molly detected the fun through the solemnity.

She gave a wriggle.
"Now you're laughing at me," she said.

"You _know_ I don't mean that kind.