There, while bargaining with a porter, Nurse Branscome had time to observe with what natural good manners the child suffered herself to be folded in Frau Muller's ample embrace, and how prettily she shook hands with the good baker.

She turned about, even once or twice, to wave her farewells.
"But she is naturally reserved," Nurse Branscome decided.
"Well, she'll be none the worse for that." She had hardly formed this judgment when Corona went a straight way to upset it.

A tuft of groundsel had rooted itself close beside the traction rails a few paces from the waterside.

With a little cry-- almost a sob--the child swooped upon the weed, and plucking it, pressed it to her lips.
"I promised to kiss the first living thing I met in England," she explained.
"Then you might have begun with me," said Nurse Branscome, laughing.
"Oh, that's good--I like you to laugh! This is real England, merry England, and I used to 'spect it was so good that folks went about laughing all the time, just because they lived in it." "Look here, my dear, you mustn't build your expectations too high.
If you do, we shall all disappoint you; which means that you will suffer." "But that was a long time ago.

I've grown since.