I just like to be doing something, and oh, dear, there is nothing to do!" Terry was sitting at the nursery fire waiting to be summoned to Granny's sitting-room.

She had on her pretty white frock, her gold curls were all brushed up into a thousand shining rings, and her blue silk work-bag was hanging by its ribbons from her arms.

She had been extremely good and quiet all day, and she was intending to behave nicely to Gran'ma during the evening.

She knew exactly all that would happen.

There would be a good tea; oh, yes, Granny did give such good teas, dear old Gran'ma! And then Terry would sit on a stool beside her, and embroider a letter on one of Granny's new cambric pocket-handkerchiefs.