"Oh! but I will! I will, if it takes every dollar of my income! My mamma told me that when I grew up I must be the mother of the poor! And doesn't a mother feed her children?"
Middleton laughed.
"And as for that poor boy on the hill, he shall have tarts and cheese cakes, and plum pudding, and roast turkey, and new books every day; because I like him; I like him so much; I like him better than I do anything in the world except Fido!"
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Middleton, seizing this opportunity of administering an admonition, "like him as well as Fido, if you please; but do not pet him quite as freely as you pet Fido."
"But I will, if I choose to! Why shouldn't I?" inquired the young lady, erecting her haughty little head.
"Because he is not a dog!" dryly answered her uncle.
"Oh! but he likes petting just as much as Fido! He does indeed, uncle; I assure you! Oh, I noticed that."
"Nevertheless, Miss Claudia, I must object in future to your making a pet of the poor boy, whether you or he like it or not."
"But I will, if I choose!" persisted the little princess, throwing back her head and shaking all her ringlets.
Mr. Middleton sighed, shook his head, and turned to his wife, whispering, in a low tone: