"He's a darling!"
"A darling? Ah, yes. I should not have used that word for him, but I agree with the sentiment."
"You are critical this morning. Don't you ever allow yourself any liberty of speech in German? Do you always say exactly what you mean, and use exactly the right word?"
"Oh, Miss Sydney, you describe to me a pig—no, a pr-rig person. Surely I use many picture words in my thinking of—well, just to illustrate what I mean, I will say, in my thinking of you!"
Sydney moved her position so that her face was partly hidden behind the back of the Baron's wheeled chair.
"Now, there is Schatz," went on Friedrich, sipping his egg-nog placidly, but keeping a wary eye upon the bit of pink cheek that was still within his range of vision. "I like to think of you as Schatz,"—there was a danger-betokening movement of the glowing head,—"because you are such a treasure to your grandmother."
He paused a moment, but there was no reply.
"And Perle—it is a pretty word, Perle—it makes you to think of the r-radiance of the moon, so pure, so soft. Yes," he went on, hastily, "Perle r-rhymes with Erle—that means an alder-tree—and that r-reminds me of you."
"I must say I fail to see the resemblance," came an injured voice from behind the chair.
"Not see? Oh, Miss Sydney, surely—with your cleverness! Listen to this, then; perhaps you like it better that I call you my—I mean a—Rose."