We quarrelled about the cannon.  I said no one ever heard of a greengrocer with a cannon in his shop; and Joseph said it couldn’t matter if the greengrocer stood in front of the cannon so as to hide it.  So I said I wouldn’t have a cannon in my fair at all; and Joseph said he didn’t want to come to my fair, for he liked his fortress much better, and he rattled out, dragging his cannon behind him, and knocked down Adelaide Augusta, the gutta-percha doll, who was leaning against the fishmonger’s slab, with her chin on the salmon.

It was very hard, and I said so; and then Joseph said there were plenty of times when I wouldn’t let him play with the dolls; and I said that was just it—­when I didn’t want him to he wanted, and when I wanted him to he wouldn’t, and that he was very selfish.

So at last he put away his cannon, and came and played at shops; but he was very stupid, and would look over his shoulder at the fortress when he ought to have been pretending to sell; and once, when I had left the fair, he got his cannon back and shot peas out of it, so that all the fowls fell off the real hooks in the poulterer’s shop, and said he was bombarding the city.

I was very angry, and said, “I shall go straight down, and complain to godmamma,” and I went.

The worst of it was that only that very morning Lady Elizabeth had said to me, “Remember one thing, my dear.  I will listen to no complaints whatever.  No grumbles either from you or from Joseph.  If you want anything that you have not got, and will ask for it, I will do my best for you, as my little guests; and if it is right and reasonable, and fair to both, you shall have what you want.  But you must know your own mind when you ask, and make the best of what I can do for you.  I will hear no general complaints whatever.”

Remembering this, I felt a little nervous when I was fairly in the drawing-room, and Lady Elizabeth had laid down her glasses to hear what I had to say.

“Do you want anything, my dear?” said she.

I began to complain—­that Joseph was so stupid; that it seemed so provoking; that I did think it was very unkind of him, etc.; but Lady Elizabeth put up her hand.

“My dear Selina, you have forgotten what I told you.  If there is anything that an old woman like me can do to make your father’s child happy, do not be afraid to ask for it, but I will not have grumbling in the drawing-room.  By all means make up your mind as to what you want, and don’t be afraid to ask your old godmother.  But if she thinks it right to refuse, or you do not think it right to ask, you must make the best of matters as they stand, and keep your good humour and your good manners like a lady.”

I felt puzzled.  When I complained to nurse that Joseph “was so tiresome,” she grumbled back again that “she never knew such children,” and so forth.  It is always easy to meet grievance with grievance, but I found that it was not so easy to make up my mind and pluck up my courage to ask in so many words for what I wanted.