“Perhaps you’d like a cambric needle,” said I.
“I don’t want a winch,” she pouted.
“Well, here’s a smaller one. Now kneel down.”
“Yes, but you wait a moment, till I screw up my courage.”
“No need. You can talk, and I’ll take you at unawares.”
So Faith knelt down, and I got all ready.
“And what shall I talk about?” said she. “About Aunt Rhody, or Mr. Gabriel, or——I’ll tell you the queerest thing, Georgie! Going to now?”
“Do be quiet, Faith, and not keep your head flirting about so!”——for she’d started up to speak. Then she composed herself once more.
“What was I saying? O, about that! Yes, Georgie, the queerest thing! You see this evening, when Dan was out, I was sitting talkin’ with Mr. Gabriel, and he was wondering how I came to be dropped down here, so I told him all about it. And he was so interested that I went and showed him the things I had on when Dan found me,——you know they’ve been kept real nice. And he took them, and looked them over close, admiring them, and——and——admiring me,——and finally he started, and then held the frock to the light, and then lifted a little plait, and in the under side of the belt lining there was a name very finely wrought,——Virginie des Violets; and he looked at all the others, and in some hidden corner of every one was the initials of the same name,——V. des V.
“‘That should be your name, Mrs. Devereux,’ says he.