I could not but assent to that; and the king, who seemed a good deal diverted at the accident—for he loves little babies too well to look upon it, as most people would, to be a shocking business—questioned me about it.
“How was it?” said he,—“how happened it? Could not she get home?”
“It was so sudden, sir, and so unexpected, there was no time.”
“I dare say,” said the sweet queen, “Mrs. Locke was only very happy to have it at her house.”
“Indeed, ma'am,” cried I, “her kindness, and Mr. Locke's would make anybody think so but they are all kindness and goodness.”
“I have heard indeed,” said the queen, “that they are all sensible, and amiable, and ingenuous, in that family.”
“They are indeed,” cried I, “and as exemplary as they are accomplished.”
“I have never seen Mrs. Locke,” said the king, “since she was that high;”—pointing to little Miss Dewes.
“And I,” said the queen “I have never seen her in my life; but for all that, from what I hear of her, I cannot help feeling interested whenever I only hear her name.”
This, with a good deal of animation, she said directly to me.