Johnny looked pleased.
"I can remember some things," said he. "You picked up my marbles and made a fence for them, and you spoke pleasantly to me. What is 'an idiot,' Emma?"
"An idiot is a person who does not know anything—not even his own name, or the days of the week," answered Emma. "Why do you ask, Johnny?"
"A lady said I was 'an idiot,'" replied Johnny, with a quivering lip: "I heard her just now; and she said I ought not to be here, because people did not like to see me, and it made it unpleasant. It was that girl's mother who wears the red stockings."
"Just like her!" said Emma, who was a kindhearted little thing, but rather too hasty and outspoken. "My mother says she is a horrid, vulgar woman. Never mind, Johnny; you are not an idiot at all, and I am sure you know lots of things."
"And you like to stay here, don't you?" said Amity.
"Yes; I like to see the pretty ladies, and to hear the music, and watch the water come out of the ground over there," and he pointed toward the park. "It acts as if it was glad to come out into the light. Do you think it is?"
"Perhaps so," said Amity. "And what else do you like?"
"I like to hear stories, and verses, and hymns," said Johnny, "and to go to church, only I can't understand what the minister says very well. I used to like to knit, but I forgot how when I was so sick. Mrs. Franklin says she will get some one to teach me again when we get home."
"I don't think you are one bit like 'an idiot,'" said Emma. "Amity, I must go now: I have to take my bath at eleven."