Phebe said, "Oh! misse, he's only fooling."
Pauline didn't understand that, and turning around saw him. "Here he is!" she exclaimed triumphantly, "will you please tell Phebe, you did say that."
Joseph confessed he was decidedly confused. "She looked so earnest and solemn with those large eyes of hers. I wouldn't like her to catch me fibbing. I couldn't look her in the face for a month. By the way, coz, have you ever found out her parentage? She speaks when occasion requires, like a princess. You should have heard her reprove Phebe for laughing."
I hinted to Joseph that I disliked to hear any allusion to Pauline's parentage.
"It is a great wonder," said he, "that I did not blab it right out."
Tuesday, March 21st.
To-day has been mild and pleasant as summer. Joseph, who is a skilful equestrian, rode up to the door, waiting for Cæsar to bring the riding whip. Pauline stood with her little face pressed close to the window, at the imminent hazard of flattening her nose. Joseph motioned to me to throw up the sash. I did so, setting down the child from the chair.
"Let Pauline come," said he.
I shook my head.
"It will do her good; the day is delightful; dress her warm, and let her come. I'll bring her back safely."