"Well," continued Budge, "they said your little girl went with him, and you'd know when she would come back."
"I haven't any little girl," said the old lady, her indignation at a supposed joke threatening to overcome her dignity. "Now go away."
"She isn't a very little girl," said Budge, honestly anxious to conciliate; "that is, she's bigger'n I am, but they said you was her mother, an' so she's your little girl, isn't she? I think she's lovely, too."
MRS. MAYTON STOOPED TO PICK UP HER GLASSES
"Do you mean Miss Mayton?" asked the lady, thinking she had a possible clue to the cause of Budge's anxiety.
"Oh, yes—that's her name—I couldn't think of it," eagerly replied Budge. "An ain't she AWFUL nice—I know she is!"
"Your judgment is quite correct, considering your age," said Mrs. Mayton, exhibiting more interest in Budge than she had heretofore done. "But what makes you think she is nice? You are rather younger than her male admirers usually are."
"Why, my Uncle Harry told me so," replied Budge, "and he knows everything."