Volume Two—Chapter Ten.
Only Floss!
Minds that have nothing to confer
Find little to perceive.
Wordsworth.
As Eugenia came downstairs the next morning, she met a small person toiling upward, one foot at a time. Eugenia loved children. She stopped at once and knelt down beside the little creature, the better to get sight of the face half hidden by the tangles of wavy hair.
“And who are you, dear?” she said, kindly. “One of my little nieces, I suppose.” She knew that Mrs Eyrecourt had children, but was ignorant how many or of what ages.
“I don’t know,” said the little girl, rather surlily. “I’m only Floss;” and she seemed eager to set off again on her journey upstairs.
“Floss? What a nice funny little name!” said her new aunt-in-law, detaining her gently. “Is it because you have got such pretty flossy hair that they call you so?”
“I don’t know,” said Floss again, but more amiably than before. “I didn’t know my hair was pwetty. Yours is,” touching Eugenia’s bright brown tresses as she spoke. “It shines so nice in the sun;” for it was a brilliant summer morning, and some sunbeams had found their way through the quaint pointed windows, lighting up the oak-panelled hall and wide, shallow-stepped staircase where the two were standing. “I like your hair,” pursued Floss, waxing confidential. “I don’t like light hair, nor I don’t like black.”
“Don’t you, dear? Why not?” asked Eugenia, amused at the oddity of the child.