"I won't tell you."
"I'll lend it to you."
"I won't take it that way." So Elspeth had to part with her Testament, saying wonderingly, "Can you read?"
"Yes, and write too. Mamma taught me."
"But I thought she was daft," Elspeth blurted out.
"She is only daft now and then," Grizel replied, without her usual spirit. "Generally she is not daft at all, but only timid."
Next morning the Painted Lady's child paid three calls, one in town, two in the country. The adorable thing is that, once having made up her mind, she never flinched, not even when her hand was on the knocker.
The first gentleman received her in his lobby. For a moment he did not remember her; then suddenly the color deepened on his face, and he went back and shut the parlor-door.
"Did anybody see you coming here?" he asked, quickly.
"I don't know."