CHAPTER XX.
MOLLY AND THE WHITE HORSE.
Meantime lord Herbert came and went.

There was fighting here and fighting there, castles taken, defended, re-taken, here a little success and there a worse loss, now on this side and now on that; but still, to say the best, the king's affairs made little progress; and for Mary Somerset, her body and soul made progress in opposite directions.
There was a strange pleasant mixture of sweet fretfulness and trusting appeal in her.

Children suffer less because they feel that all is right when father or mother is with them; grown people from whom this faith has vanished ere it has led them to its original fact, may well be miserable in their sicknesses.
She lay moaning one night in her crib, when suddenly she opened her eyes and saw her mother's hand pressed to her forehead.

She was imitative, like most children, and had some very old-fashioned ways of speech.
'Have you got a headache, madam ?' she asked.
'Yes, my Molly,' answered her mother.
'Then you will go to mother Mary.

She will take you on her knee, madam.
Mothers is for headaches.