Blanche. “I thought you were here, Sisty: may I stay?”
Pisistratus.—“Why, my dear child, the day is so fine that instead of losing it indoors, you ought to be running in the fields with Juba.”
Juba.—“Bow-wow.”
Blanche.—“Will you come too? If Sisty stays in, Blanche does not care for the butterflies!”
Pisistratus, seeing that the thread of his day-dreams is broken, consents with an air of resignation. Just as they gain the door, Blanche pauses, and looks as if there were something on her mind.
Pisistratus—“What now, Blanche? Why are you making knots in that ribbon, and writing invisible characters on the floor with the point of that busy little foot?”
Blanche (mysteriously).—“I have found a new room, Sisty. Do you think we may look into it?”
Pisistratus—“Certainly; unless any Bluebeard of your acquaintance told you not. Where is it?”
Blanche.—“Upstairs, to the left.”
Pisistratus.—“That little old door, going down two stone steps, which is always kept locked?”