By this time the little girl had come up to them. It was a very graceful girl of eight or nine years, light haired, with large blue eyes, tall for her age, and displaying all the intelligence of a young girl, without her timidity.
“How are you, little Martha?” said the doctor to her in his gentlest voice, which was very soft when he chose.
“Good-morning, gentlemen!” she replied with a nice little courtesy.
Dr. Seignebos bent down to kiss her rosy cheeks, and them, looking at her, he said,—
“You look sad, Martha?”
“Yes, because papa and little sister are sick,” she replied with a deep sigh.
“And also because you miss Valpinson?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Still it is very pretty here, and you have a large garden to play in.”
She shook her head, and, lowering her voice, she said,—