“Well, I’m sure I don’t want the honor.”
“No, I understand exactly how afflicted you would be, if he should ask you. Poor child! I hope you will be spared that blow!” And Linnie laughed in the most exasperating way.
Min was in a fever of delight during the ride. During the first part of it the count had given her a very charming version of Aladdin; and when he drove back to the town, he led her like a queen into the finest ice-cream saloon, and seating her in a chair, took his place opposite to her and said, as he removed his hat and gloves, “Now, my golden-haired mistress, what will you have? Remember, I am your Slave of the Lamp.”
“Well, my Slave of the Lamp,” she answered, gayly, “I should like some chocolate lady-fingers, and some strawberry ice-cream, and some cocoa-nut pie, and some almonds, and—”
“Mercy!” exclaimed the count, laughing. “If you eat all that, instead of taking you to the toy-shop for that doll, I shall have to stop at Simpson’s, the undertaker, and have you measured.”
“Well. Is that the way Slaves of the Lamp behave, I should like to know?”
“Now, Min,” said the count, “let us compromise. The Slave of the Lamp is terribly afraid of your auntie, and so he must not make you ill. You take the cream and the chocolate nougats, and the rest we will have put in the carriage, for home consumption when the Slave is gone.”
“All right!” said the little girl.
When they reached home it required the count, Clara, and Min combined to carry all her purchases into the house.
“Oh, auntie! auntie! See! I’ve got such a lovely singing-bird!” And she insisted, whatever became of her other treasures, on carrying the cage in herself.