"I would like you to be fond of me," continued Madelon, "for I
think I shall love you very much; and I like you to call me
Madelon--nobody else calls me so--except--except your Uncle
Horace."
"It was Uncle Horace told me to," cried Madge. "I asked him
what I should call you, and he said he thought Cousin Madelon
would do."
"I think it will do very well," said Madelon, rising. "To-
morrow will you take me to your garden? I should like to see
your daisies growing."
After this Madge and Madelon became great friends; and when
the former was at her lessons, there was a nurseryfull of
younger children to pet and play with, if Madelon felt so
disposed. Sometimes in the morning, when she was sitting alone
in the drawing-room, little feet would go scampering along the
floor upstairs, shrill little voices would make themselves
heard from above, and then Madelon, throwing down book or
work, would run up to the big nursery, where, whilst the two
elder children were in the school-room with their mother,
three round, rosy children kept up a perpetual uproar.
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