Dotty gave her an oyster. The next moment something grated against Katie's teeth, and she picked out the hard substance with her fingers. Mrs. Clifford happened to see it.
"That is a pearl," said she.
"A pearl, auntie? Why, isn't that something precious? Mamma has pearls in a ring."
"I will show it to your uncle," replied Mrs. Clifford, turning it over in her hand; "but I think it is a true pearl, only a little discolored by the heat it has undergone in being cooked."
"O, I'll have a ring made of it! What funny oysters you do have out West!"
"The pyurl is mine," said Katie; "I finded it in my toof."
"No, it's mine, darling, for 'twas in my stew."
"Well, tenny rate, I want um," said Katie, dancing around the sofa, "if you pees um."
"O, no; little bits of girlies don't need it—do they, auntie?"
"I hope," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling, "it will not cost either of you any of those 'falling pearls which men call tears.' It isn't worth crying about."