"Well!" exclaimed the old lady, after a moment's pause, "this is a pretty thing!"
By this time Bessie's politeness had gained the better of her astonishment, and scrambling to her feet, she stood upright in the crib. As the stranger's eyes were fixed upon Hafed as she spoke, the little girl supposed the "pretty thing" meant the dress of the young Persian, which the children thought very elegant; and she answered, "Yes, ma'am, but he is not to wear it much longer, 'cause the boys yun after him in the street, so Uncle Yuthven is having some English clothes made for him."
"Where is your mother?" asked the old lady, without other notice of Bessie's speech.
"Gone out with Aunt Bessie, ma'am."
"And is there nobody left to take care of you?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am," answered Bessie. "Maggie and I are taking care of the children, and Hafed is taking care of us."
"Humph!" said the old lady, as if she did not think this at all a proper arrangement. "I shall give Margaret a piece of my mind about this."
Bessie now opened her eyes very wide. "Papa don't allow it," she said, gravely.
"Don't allow what?" asked the stranger, rather sharply.