Mrs. Bretton drew the little stranger to her when they had entered the drawing-room, kissed her, and asked: "What is my little one's name?"
"Polly, papa calls her," was the reply.
"And will Polly be content to live with me?"
"Not always; but till papa comes home." Her eyes filled with tears, and, drawing away from Mrs. Bretton, she added: "I can sit on a stool."
Her emotion at finding herself among strangers was, however, only expressed by the tiniest occasional sniff, and presently the managing little body remarked:
"Harriet, I must be put to bed. Ask if you sleep with me."
"No, missy," said the nurse; "you are to share this young lady's room"--designating me.
"I wish you, ma'am, good-night," said the little creature to Mrs. Bretton; but she passed me mute.
"Good-night, Polly," I said.
"No need to say good-night, since we sleep in the same chamber," was the reply.