"I promised to lend Mr. Strange this: it is 'The Old English Baron.' He has never read it."
"There, run back," said Mr. Brightman, as I turned and took the book from her. "You will catch cold, Annabel."
"What a charming child she is, sir!" I could not help exclaiming.
"She is that," he replied. "A true child of nature, knowing no harm and thinking none. Mrs. Brightman complains that her ideas and manners are unformed; no style about her, she says, no reserve. In my opinion that ought to constitute a child's chief charm. All Annabel's parts are good. Of sense, intellect, talent, she possesses her full share; and I am thankful that they are not prematurely developed. I am thankful," he repeated with emphasis, "that she is not a forward child. In my young days, girls were girls, but now there is not such a thing to be found. They are all women. I do not admire the forcing system myself; forced vegetables, forced fruit, forced children: they are good for little. A genuine child, such as Annabel, is a treasure rarely met with."
I thought so too.
CHAPTER V.
WATTS'S WIFE.