“What does she mean?” he cried.
Bootles laughed.
“Well, sir, she hears us speak to the colonel so, that is all.”
“Dear me! What a remarkably intelligent and attractive child!” exclaimed the general, quietly. “How old is she?”
“About two, sir.”
Now it happened that the old general had a craze for absolute accuracy, and he caught Bootles up with pleasant sharpness.
“Oh! Does that mean more or less?”
“I can’t say, sir. She is about two. I do not know the date of her birth.”
“Then she is not yours?”
“I am not her father, sir, but at present she belongs to me,” Bootles said, smiling. “I’m afraid—”