“No; Virgie hates French dolls.”
“Across the sea,” said Eugene mournfully, “I shall soon forget you; for I shall have boys to play with and you are but a girl.”
“When you go ’way, Eugene,” replied Virgie in a cool and impassive manner, “I’ll frow all the stones in the park at the remperor.”
This shaft did not excite his anger as she thought it would; so she continued, cautiously feeling her way, for she was afraid of him when he lost his temper. “An’ maybe I’ll kill the king, an’ the other pussies, an’ the mister policeman, an’ maybe I’ll come an’ kill you.”
Her sweet and silly defiance did not provoke the boy, and she lashed her childish imagination for another taunt. “If Virgie had a gun,” she murmured, “a big, big gun, I guess she’d shoot you now.”
Eugene smiled sadly, and yet his eyes were full of tears. Was he going to cry before this child and the man who was silently regarding him? The thought filled him with dismay; and he turned on his heel, and abruptly went toward the door.
“Oh, oh!” squealed Virgie dismally, “the pretty buttons! come back, I want to see them!”
Her volatile, childish fancy had been taken with the glitter of some new buttons on Eugene’s coat; and hastily wiping his eyes, he returned to her, and before Mr. Manning could prevent him, he had gallantly twisted a button from its place, and put it in the child’s hand.
“Thank you, Eugene, just dreffully,” she said in delight; and she sprang up in her crib, clasping her new treasure firmly in one hand, while she extended the other toward him. “Good-by, Virgie won’t hurt the remperor; here’s a present for you;” and she caught up a legless, armless doll lying on her dainty pillow.