"Ice is easily melted, you know."
"By tears, hot tears," said Harebell very thoughtfully; "or by fire and sun. That's what people tell me. I haven't seen any ice yet, you know. But I feel it from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes. It's all over the house."
Here she waved her hands again.
"And, Mr. Graham, I'm getting silenter and silenter; and if it wasn't for doing lessons with the Rectory children, I think my heart would break."
"It's only grown-up hearts that break," said Mr. Graham. "I assure you that yours will be quite safe for a long time yet."
"That's how Andy talks; but I thought you'd understand better. Andy laughs at everything I say—every single thing!"
"I'm not laughing, but I'm glad to hear about the Rectory children. Who are they?"
"Well, you see, I haven't really got to know them yet; but they're sure to be nice, don't you think so? The boy is called Peter, that's an ugly name I think. I wonder and wonder who will be my real friend. I don't think I can like them both; not for a private and special friend, you know. It must be one or the other."
"I should think you and the girl would chum up; you would have the same tastes."
"But we mightn't at all," said Harebell hastily. "I like animals, not dolls; and I like men and boys much better than women and girls. I always wish I'd been born a boy."