"Speak truth, child," said the parson.
"I did indeed see that name once, both on a cape and in a letter that lay in a little trunk at Mistress Brace's," said Sally, "and—and—"
"Speak out without fear," said Parson Kendall, as Sally groped for words; "much depends on my having a clear understanding of all thou canst tell."
Then Sally told of the soldier who had thrust his card into her bended arm.
"It was the same queer name," said Sally.
"Dost know what language it would belong to, young maid?" and the grave parson smiled.
"The soldier I think was French," said the maiden, a droop of disappointment in her voice. "I fear me the name must be French also."
"Spell it, and then pronounce it," said the parson.
And Sally spelled, then pronounced:
"'D-u-q-u-e-s-n-e, Doo-kane.'"