Still I did not answer.
“Sulky, eh? I shall have to lick him before long, I see. Here you, what's your name? Fairlegh, did your grand-mother give you that writing-desk?”
“No,” replied I, “my sister Fanny gave it to me the day before I left home.”
“Oh, you have got a sister Fanny, have you? how old is she, and what is she like?”
“She is just thirteen, and she has got the dearest little face in the world,” answered I, earnestly, as the recollection of her bright blue eyes and sunny smile came across me.
"How interesting!” sighed Coleman; “it quite makes my heart beat; you could not send for her, could you?”
“And she gave you that desk, did she?—how very kind of her,” resumed Lawless, putting the poker in the fire.
“Yes, was it not?” said I, eagerly. “I would not have any harm happen to it for more than I can tell.”
“So I suppose,” replied Lawless, still devoting himself to the poker, which was rapidly becoming red-hot. “Have you ever,” continued he, “seen this new way they have of ornamenting things? encaustic work, I think they call it:—it's done by the application of heat, you know.”
“I never even heard of it,” said I.