So as Wendot looked down into the bright little upturned face, he was able to reply readily and smilingly:
"Where would you like to go, little lady, and what would you like me to show you?"
"Oh, everything -- all out there," said the little girl, with a wave of her hand towards the front door. "I want to go and see the sun. I am tired of it in here."
Wendot led the child through the hall, and out upon the great terrace which overlooked the steep descent to the valley and away to the glowing west. Griffeth followed, glad that his elder brother had been preferred before himself by the little maiden, yet half fascinated by her nameless charm. Wendot lifted her up in his strong arms to see over the wide stone balustrade, and she made him set her down there and perch himself by her side; for she seemed loath to go back to the hall again, and the boys were as willing as she to remain out in the open air.
"It is pretty here," said the child graciously; "I think I should like to live here sometimes, if it was always summer. Tell me your name, big boy. I hope it is not very hard. Some people here have names I cannot speak right."
"They call me Res Wendot," answered the lad; "generally Wendot at home here. This is Griffeth, my youngest brother. Those are not hard names, are they?"
"No, not very. And how old are you, Wendot?"
"I am fifteen."
"Oh, how big you are!" said the little lady, opening her eyes wide; "I thought you must be much older than that. I am twelve, and you can lift me up in your arms. But then I always was so little -- they all say so."
"Yet you travel about with your father," said Wendot.