I was proceeding with my raptures, when my mother tapped my cheek merrily, which brought the blood into my face strangely enough. 'At all events,' I said, I hope she will stay with us always.'
'You stupid Chris! What has got into your head? I really don't suppose she will stay very long.'
'But she has brought her box--and--and--'
My mother suddenly assumed a look of perplexity. 'Really, really now,' she said, sitting down, and holding me in front of her, 'I know every mark upon you. You have got a brown mole on your left side, and a little red spot like a currant on the back of your neck, and another one just here----' and then she paused.
'Well, mother?'
'Well, Chris, I really cannot remember that I have ever seen a note of interrogation anywhere about you. Have you got one, my dear? And where is it?'
'But, mother,' I said, laughing, and kissing her, 'I must be inquisitive and I must ask questions.'
'Only of me, dear child.'
'Well, then, only of you. Now wouldn't you grow quite fond of her?'
'I am sure I should, dear.'