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“What does it mean, that big word, Mrs. Kimono?”

“It means—my name is—isn’t—no matter. Are you better? Can you eat? It’s small wonder you were upset after the supper that foolish doctor gave you. What is your breakfast at home?”

“Oatmeal and fruit. Sometimes, if I’m good, some meat and potato.”

“I will order it for you.”

“Thank you, but I can order for myself. Mamma always allows me to. She wishes me to be myself, not anybody else,” returned the child.

“Oh, indeed! Then do so.”

Josephine recognized from the lady’s tone that she had given offence, though didn’t know why. Now, it was another of her wise mother’s rules that her little daughter should punish herself when any punishment was needed. Opinions didn’t always agree upon the subject, yet, as a rule, the conscientious child could be trusted to deal with her own faults more sternly than anybody else would do. She realized that here was a case in point, and, though the steak and potatoes which Red Kimono ordered for herself looked very tempting, asked only for oatmeal and milk, “without any sugar, if you please, boy.”