"I am sure I have said something you don't like," I observed, anxiously.
Cornelius took me in his arms and kissed me.
"My good little girl," he said, "you are the best little girl in this world; and if you are only a little girl, you cannot help it—so keep your little heart in peace—and God bless you."
He spoke kindly, and rose, looking down at me with a sort of fondness and pity which did not escape, and which half offended me.
"But I am not a little girl, Cornelius," I replied, in a piqued tone.
"Aren't you?" he said, taking hold of my chin with a smile and look that were not free from irony. "I beg your pardon; I thought you were the little girl that so long made a fool of Cornelius O'Reilly!"
I gave him a surprised look; he laughed and took his hat; I followed him to the door and detained him.
"You are not angry with me!" I observed, uneasily.
"Angry with you!" he said, "no, my pet. What should I be angry for?"
"I don't know, Cornelius; but I am glad you are not angry."