“You never did,” was the somewhat sullen answer; “for no one but myself has any right to it.”
“Yet I am very sure that I have heard it before, at——”
“Hush! hush! You must never say that here,” said the miniature boy, climbing up on Eva’s shoulder, and laying his hand upon her lips. “You know as well as I do that you never heard my name before.”
“I thought I had,” Eva said, looking lovingly at the little figure nestling among her golden curls; “but I now know that I never did. Still, I would like to know who you are. Are you a fairy?”
“I am not a fairy, but you are all mine,” Aster said, gayly. “But you must be careful with me, and never lose me, or else——”
“What?”
“I do not know. They are watching us.”
Who “THEY” were, Eva could not induce him to say. For even when he did try to explain, his words were all so confused that Eva could not understand at all what he meant, although he seemed to speak plainly; and the only thing that she could really learn from him was this,—that she must not ask questions, and that THEY were THEY.
Which is all very strange to us; but it appears that Eva was at last satisfied, because Aster seemed to think that she should understand it just as he did, and that nothing further need, consequently, be said on the subject.