'Walked here, of course,' she said somewhat scornfully.
'Nonsense!' I exclaimed; although if she had persisted in her statement, I was quite ready to believe it, as I would have believed anything from her lips.
'Oh, you don't believe in things!'
'Yes, I do; but I don't believe that thing. How did it come?'
'A boy carried it. A strong boy--not like you. Isn't that candied lemon-peel in the glass bottle?'
'Yes.'
'I should like some. I'm very fond of sweet things.'
Quite as though the little girl were mistress of the establishment, my mother went behind the counter, and cut a slice of the lemon-peel.
'What a small piece!' exclaimed the girl, sitting on the box, and biting it. 'I could put it all in my mouth at once; but I like to linger over nice things.'
And she did linger over it, while we looked on. When she had finished, she said: