Her friend had been with her continually at
first, and, whilst he had been there, the old life had been real and
visible enough; but on her second birthday he had told her that it was
right now that she should manage by herself. Since then, he had come
when she least expected him; sometimes when she had needed him very
badly he had not appeared.... She never knew. At any rate, he had said
that to-day would be important.... She lay in bed, listening to her
nurse's snores, and waited.
II
At breakfast she knew that it was her birthday. There were presents from
her aunts--a picture-book and a box of pencils--there was also a
mysterious parcel. Angelina could not remember that she had ever had a
parcel before, and the excitement of this one must be prolonged. She
would not open it, but gazed at it, with her spoon in the air and her
mouth wide open.
"Come, Miss Angelina--what a name to give the poor lamb!--get on with
your breakfast now, or you'll never have done. Why not open the pretty
parcel?"
"No. Do you think it is a twain?"
"Say train--not twain."
"Train."
"No, of course not; not a thing that shape.
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