"Shall you die?"
"No, not until I am old, old, old."
"I am very glad: I will take you for a pet, All my little animals get nasty, and my flowers have died, but I don't care, now that you have come: I think I shall like you best."
"But I won't be your pet," said the boy, offended.
"Why not?" she asked, looking at him beseechingly. "I should be very good to you;" and she smoothed his sleeve with her brown hand as if it were the fur of one of her late darlings.
"Who are you?" he demanded inquisitively.
"I am myself," she innocently replied.
"What is your name?"
"I am Nellie. Have you a name?" she eagerly went on. "If you haven't, I'll give you a pretty one. Let me see: I will call you—"
"You need not trouble yourself, thank you: I have a name of my own, Miss Nellie. I am Danby Overbeck."