"Do you like it?"
"Yes."
"You are my good genius," said he, "so I must a peculiar title for you, different from what other people know you by."
"What is a genius, Sir?" said Fleda.
"Well, a sprite, then," said he, smiling.
"A sprite?" said Fleda.
"I have read a story of a lady, Elfie, who had a great many little unearthly creatures, a kind of sprites, to attend upon her. Some sat in the ringlets of her hair, and took charge of them; some hid in the folds of her dress and made them lie gracefully; another lodged in a dimple in her cheek, and another perched on her eyebrows, and so on."
"To take care of her eyebrows?" said Fleda, laughing.
"Yes; to smooth out all the ill-humoured wrinkles and frowns,
I suppose."
"But am I such a sprite?" said Fleda.