'Who is she? what's her name?'
'O, I don't know that, papa; but I'll go and ask her.'
Flying then back, 'Pray, ma'am,' she cried, 'what's your name? because papa wants to know.'
'Why, my dear, my name's Mittin. So you may think of me when you put on your gloves.'
'Papa, her name's Mittin,' cried Miss Dennel, scampering again to her father.
'Well, and who is she?'
'O, la, I'm sure I can't tell, only she's a gentlewoman.'
'And how do you know that?'
'She told me so herself.'
'And where does she live?'