As Nettie sprang into the presence of her guardian he arose and walked toward her, took her hand gently, and told her that little girls must walk and not jump and skip through the rooms of a house. Then he led her into the breakfast room, where Miss Joe was already installed at the head of the table, attended by a “genteel” waiter. General Garnet seated his ward and took his own place. Hero now made her appearance and stood by her little mistress. But Nettie’s eyes were wandering from the elegancies of the breakfast table, with its damask tablecloth, fine napkins, Sevres china service, etc., to the superb sideboard, with its splendid array of cut-glass and silver plate; and from the rich Turkey carpet to the wonderful paper hangings of the walls that showed the city of Paris by morning light. And Nettie’s maid had several times to remind her that little ladies did not stare about, but ate their breakfast prettily, before she could withdraw her attention from the new glories around her and fix it upon her breakfast.
But before the meal was half over Nettie had sprung up and bounded out of the room in search of more novelties. The hall, the library and the picture-gallery, the parlor and the drawing room, the saloon and the conservatory—all on the first floor—were in turn invaded and overhauled by the eager, impetuous child. Then all the chambers on the second floor were visited and ransacked. And then the indefatigable little explorer made for the attic, and besieged the doors of the locked-up rooms there. Through all these runnings and ramblings Hero followed her, telling her that little ladies should not do this, or that, or the other.
When night came, a little tired with her incessant running, and a little fretted and dispirited with the ceaseless accompaniment of her maid’s tuitions and fault-finding, Nettie went into the library, where her guardian sat luxuriating in his easy-chair at a table covered with books and papers before a fine fire.
Nettie was too tired to notice the elegant and luxurious appointments of General Garnet’s favorite retreat; the superb book-cases at intervals along the walls; the rare and costly statues, busts, and oil-paintings; the tables laden with prints and articles of virtu; the easy-chairs, sofas, and foot-cushions; the deep, soft carpet, “stealing all noises from the feet”; the heavy damask curtains, excluding all cold air, and the splendid chandeliers pendant from the ceiling and diffusing through their stained glass shades a rich, warm, and glowing light throughout the apartment. Nettie sauntered straight up to General Garnet, climbed upon his knees, and threw her head and arms languidly upon his bosom.
“Tired, my little Nettie?”
“Oh, very tired, godfather, indeed. Take me in your arms and rock me back and forward, as Hugh does.”
“You must forget Hugh and the isle, and the lodge, and all your infantile life, little Nettie. You are going to be a young lady, and some day you may feel mortified if anyone reminded you of these things.”
“But I think it would be wicked to forget them, godfather, and indeed I won’t forget them, either,” said Nettie, lifting herself from her resting-place.
General Garnet saw his error. If he wished Nettie to forget her past life, companions, and occupations, he must never remind her of them. If she spoke of them, he must not keep her mind fixed upon the subject even by opposing it. He must draw her attention to something else. Reaching out his hand, drawing a book of colored prints up before him, and opening it, he said:
“You have a great deal of curiosity, little Nettie. Here are views taken on the Mediterranean; pictures of strange places and old cities, which I will tell you about. But as I do not wish to talk to a listless hearer, you must first tell me when you see a picture that interests you, and question me about anything that excites your curiosity, and then I shall know that I am speaking to an attentive pupil.”