tiful telling stories, wouldn't she now, Sylvia?"
"And the stories would be beautiful if I told them--eh, Molly?"
"Yes, I am sure they would be. Will you think of some?"
"We'll see," said grandmother. "Anyway there's no time for stories at present. You have ever so much to think of with all the travelling that is before you. Wait till we get to Châlet, and then we'll see."
"I like your 'we'll see,'" said Molly. "Some people's 'we'll see,' just means, 'I can't be troubled,' or, 'don't bother.' But I think your 'we'll see' sounds nice, grandmother dear."
"I am glad you think so, grand-daughter dear; and now, what about going to bed? It is only seven, but if you are tired?"
"But we are not a bit tired," said Molly.
"We never go to bed till half-past eight, and Ralph at nine," said Sylvia.
The word "bed" had started a new flow of ideas in Molly's brain.
"Grandmother," she said, growing all at once very grave, "that rem