"You have!" I quite startled her by the start I gave. I very nearly said, "Then why do you live up here?" but I felt, in time, that it would be rude.
"Oh! I must get four hundred more, and that will take me two years, or perhaps three, unless my voice comes out like a flower." Here her baby-mouth burst into a smile most radiant,—a rose of light!
"Oh, Miss Benette, everything you say is like one of the German stories,—a Märchen,[9] you know."
"Oh, do you talk German? I love it. I always spoke it till I came to this city."
"What a pity you came!—at least, I should have been very sorry if you had not come; but I mean, I should have thought you would like Germany best."
"So I should, but I could not help coming; I was a baby when I came. Mr. Davy brought me over in his arms, and he was just as old then as I am now."
"How very odd! Mr. Davy never told me he had brought you here."
"Oh, no! he would not tell you all the good things he has done."
"He has done me good,—quite as much good as he can have done to you; but I should so like to hear all about it."