She kissed me very kindly, more tenderly than was her habit, and said to my father that he must be sure to bring me again very soon, so that as I was going downstairs with him, he said to me that he was glad to see how fond grandmother was getting of me, and that he would bring me again next week.

_I_ did not feel at all pleased at this--I felt more unhappy than ever I had done in my life, so that my father, noticing it, asked what was the matter.

I replied that I was tired and that I did not care for going to grandmother's, and then, when I saw that this ungracious answer vexed my kind father, I felt more and more unhappy.

Every moment as we walked along--we were to meet the carriage at the inn where it had been left--the bits of broken china in my pocket bumped against my leg, as if they would not let themselves be forgotten.

I wished I could stop and throw them away, but that was impossible.