"Divine indeed," replied the clergyman. "Are you Carew's little daughter?"
"Bella Carew. And I must go now, sir. Arabella is my real name."
She slipped from under the detaining arm. "Nobody knows I'm up. I'll lend you those," she offered her treasures to Cedersholm, "but I am very fond of the foot."
It lay in Cedersholm's hand without filling it. He said kindly—
"I quite understand that. Will you tell your Cousin Antony that I shall be glad to see him?"
"Oh, thank you," she nodded. "And he'll be very glad to see you."
Cedersholm, smiling, put the cast and the bit of paper back in her hands.
"I won't rob you of these, Miss Bella. Your cousin shall make me others."
As the little girl ran quickly out it seemed to the guests as if the blackbird's song went with her, for in a little while Jetty stopped singing.
"What a quaint, old-fashioned little creature," Cedersholm mused.