“Mercy! Do you call that one, Min?” asked Clara. Min laughed, and asked Paul if he liked kisses.
“That is a leading question, mademoiselle;” but seeing she would have an answer, he said, “I know of but one thing sweeter than a little girl’s kisses.”
“What is sweeter?”
“Why, a lady’s kisses.”
“Are they, Paul?”
“That is my opinion.”
“Well, that isn’t my ’pinion.”
“You think chocolate drops sweeter. That is your ’pinion.” Min readily assented, and Paul told her that he was going away the next day to New York, and when he returned he would take her to ride, and be her “slave of the lamp.” Of course the inquisitive child wanted to know all about the slave of the lamp, but the count excused himself, and promised to tell her the story of Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp, when they should take their ride. Min reluctantly consented to wait for the story, and then she asked “Paul” to stay to dinner. Clara answered, “Minnie, you are insufferable. I was just on the point of asking the count to dine with us. He will think all the hospitality of this house is confined to you.”
“No, he won’t, auntie. There’s a lot o’ hostality. Isn’t there, Paul?”
“Now go instantly, Minnie, or you will find there is hostility in the house,” said Clara, laughing. “Will you stay?” she asked the count. “I ask you only for your society, for I fear we have nothing to tempt you, gastronomically.”