“You are a gentleman born?” Gertie asked, while the young man colored to the roots of his hair, and answered:
“I believe I am.”
“Well, then,” and she turned again to Godfrey, “suppose I was his sister and you were yourself, and you found me a sick, tired little girl, sitting by myself, would you have dared to kiss me then?”
There was in her manner so much sweetness and dignity withal that languid Bob roused in her behalf, and said:
“If he did I’d knock him down,” while Godfrey, wholly driven to bay, answered humbly:
“No, Miss Gertie, I would not, and I beg your pardon, and assure you I meant no harm, but really you looked so pretty, so piquante——”
“You must not tell me that either,” Gertie said. “I’m glad if you think me pretty, and glad to have you like me, but you mustn’t tell me so. It’s very bad, for Auntie Rogers says young men like you never talk to girls like me for good, and I must not let you.”
“What kind of a girl are you, pray?” Godfrey asked, feeling more and more amused and interested with this quaint little creature, who replied:
“I am poor, and have not any relatives except a grandmother, and I don’t know where she is. But my mother was a lady, auntie says, and I once lived in a big house with servants, and auntie was my nurse. I don’t know where it was or why I left it when mother died. Auntie does not tell me, and she is so kind, and I have forty pounds a year of my own, and maybe I shall learn a trade, or teach school in America, and some time marry respectably, but I’m not the kind of girl for a man like you to kiss and talk to.”
“Gertie, you are a brick!” came emphatically from the amused Godfrey, who felt a great desire to kiss the full lips again in his admiration of the child.