"My father gave it to me, Sir," said Fleda, with a dignified sobriety which amused the old gentleman.
"Your father! hum I understand. And couldn't your father find a cap that fitted you without going back to the old- fashioned days of King Alfred?"
"Yes, Sir; it was my grandmother's cap."
"I am afraid your grandmother's cap isn't all of her that's come down to you," said he, tapping his snuff-box, and looking at her with a curious twinkle in his eyes. "What do you call yourself? Haven't you some variations of this tongue-twisting appellative to serve for every day, and save trouble?"
"They call me Fleda," said the little girl, who could not help laughing.
"Nothing better than that?"
Fleda remembered two prettier nicknames which had been her's; but one had been given by dear lips long ago, and she was not going to have it profaned by common use; and "Elfie" belonged to Mr. Carleton. She would own to nothing but Fleda.
"Well, Miss Fleda," said the doctor, "are you going to school?"
"No, Sir."
"You intend to live without such a vulgar thing as learning?"