“I am such an irritable, petulant child! I am sure no one would have patience with me but you—that is the reason I love you so!”
“You do love me then?” gazing fondly in her witching face.
“Oh, dearly! dearly! look in my eyes and see if I don’t!”
“Yes! I know you do, my pet! And I love you entirely!”
“Ah! how can you then! I have so many faults!”
“I love your little faults, and all! Come! Brighten up! Never mind! I love to see my darling bright and cheerful.”
“Ah! how can I, when I remember my fit of ill temper!”
“Say no more about it, my love! That’s the reason why I love you! For those very little gusts of temper! They are followed by such a sweet reaction! and then my child is so frank, so ingenuous in her little penitence!”
“Ah! But then I am such a spoiled child! And always was! Father spoiled me. And now you spoil me worse than ever!”
“My sweet! you can’t be spoiled! you are so ingenuous! But now tell me, what vexed my little girl this evening? Come, let me hear?” asked the old man, caressing the syren.