"Now," said Miss Grimshaw, when the evolutions were over, and Miss French had demonstrated her soundness in wind and limb to the full satisfaction of her sire, "what do you think of that?"
"But how did you find it out?" asked the astonished man.
"She told me it as a secret."
"But why didn't she tell anyone else, with a whole houseful of people to tell, this three years and more?"
"She did, but no one would believe her—would they, Effie?"
"No," replied Effie.
"You told Mrs. Driscoll over and over again you could walk, and what did she say to you?"
"She told me to 'hold my whisht and not to be talking nonsense.' She said she'd give me to the black man that lives in the oven if I put a foot to the ground, and I told papa I was all right, and could walk, if they'd let me, and he only laughed and told me not to be getting ideas in my head."
"Faith, and that's the truth," said her papa. "I thought it was only her fancies."