[p15]
“Now, who am I taking her to? guess that; and if you guess right, I should say you’re a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, and of gipsy origin”—so the merry boy challenged her.
“To your sister.”
“Right!” laughed Dick.
“But I’m not a seventh daughter—I’m only daughter to mamma, and so was mamma before me; and I’m not a gipsy.” Inna’s face was brimming over with shy merriment.
“Well, you ought to be, for you’re a clever guesser of dark secrets,” returned the boy. “Yes: I’m taking pussy home to my sister. Her name is—now, what is her name?”
Inna shook her head.
“Something pretty I should say, but I don’t know what.”
“Oh! you’re not much of a witch after all,” said Dick. “No, it isn’t anything pretty—it’s Jane.”
Inna smiled, and looked wise.
“Well, what is it, Miss Inna? Out with it!” cried Dick, watching her changeful little face.