"Lizzie," he said "suppose you had the chance of living away from the dusty streets in a pretty little house, surrounded by the flowers you love so well!"
"How delightful!" she exclaimed, with her face among the flowers again.
"Open your eyes, Lizzie, while I speak."
"Wait a minute, daddy. Don't speak for sixty seconds. I'm looking at the house."
Muzzy remained silent until she spoke again.
"I see it," she said, "peeping out among the flowers. It is built of old red brick, the windows are very small, and vines are creeping all over the walls."
Thus did her fancy reproduce for her the picture of a country house, which doubtless she had seen at one time or another. Even when she opened her eyes, she saw the vision hanging, as it were in the clouds of a bright memory.
"How would you like to live in such a house, Liz?"
"How would I like to live in a rainbow?" was her merry rejoinder.
"But what I say I mean, my dear."