His eye fell upon me as he held a shouting and kicking child high in the air, and his own face laughed all over in mirth and enjoyment.
“Come here, Miss Wedderburn; this is Hans, there is Fritz, and here is Franz—a jolly trio; aren’t they?”
He put the child into his mother’s arms, who regarded him with an eye of approval, and told him that it was not every one who knew how to ingratiate himself with her children, who were uncommonly spirited.
“Ready?” he asked, surveying me and my costume and laughing. “Don’t you feel a stranger in these garments?”
“No! Why?”
“I should have said silk and lace and velvet, or fine muslins and embroideries, were more in your style.”
“You are quite mistaken. I was just thinking how admirably this costume suits me, and that I should do well to adopt it permanently.”
“Perhaps there was a mirror in the inner room,” he suggested.
“A mirror! Why?”