"If we were sons, we could help you," said Rosabella.
"I wish you were sons!" answered he, with serious emphasis and a deep sigh.
Floracita nestled close to him, and, looking up archly in his face, said, "And pray what would you do, papa, without your nightingale and your fairy, as you call us?"
"Sure enough, what should I do, my little flower?" said he, as with a loving smile he stooped to kiss her.
They led him to the tea-table; and when the repast was ended, they began to talk over their preparations for leaving home.
"Cher papa, how long before we shall go to Paris?" inquired Floracita.
"In two or three weeks, I hope," was the reply.
"Won't it be delightful!" exclaimed she. "You will take us to see ballets and everything."
"When I am playing and singing fragments of operas," said Rosabella, "I often think to myself how wonderfully beautiful they would sound, if all the parts were brought out by such musicians as they have in Europe. I should greatly enjoy hearing operas in Paris; but I often think, Papasito, that we can never be so happy anywhere as we have been in this dear home. It makes me feel sad to leave all these pretty things,—so many of them—"
She hesitated, and glanced at her father.