“How so?”
“Her father died before she was born, and her mother at her birth; so the poor little waif fell to the tender mercies of a maiden great-aunt on her father’s side, who immediately had her christened for herself, and proceeded forthwith to bring her up, after her own ideas, to inherit her million of money.”
“But the other one called her Brownie?”
“Yes; no one could ‘Mehetabel’ that sprite. Her nurse called her Brownie from the first, on account of her eyes, hair, and skin, for she was very dark as a child.”
“Showed her good taste—the name just suits her,” muttered the first speaker, absently.
“The little elf liked the pet name so well herself that she would never allow any one to call her anything else. I believe since she has grown up her schoolmates and a few of her gentlemen acquaintances, who do not feel familiar enough to address her so freely, shorten the obnoxious old maid title into ‘Meta.’”
“You seem to know all about her.”
“Yes, my sisters are intimate with, and very fond of her. As for myself, I always thought her a bewitching little fairy.”
“She has the sweetest and brightest face in the world,” was the enthusiastic reply.
“Ah, ha! Hard hit, aren’t you, Dredmond?”