"Yes; he's the most affectionate."
The mother turned her face the other way. "Then he must be," she murmured.
"What?" asked the child.
"Nothing. I didn't know I spoke."
The little girl stood a while still playing with her flowers. "I think Mr. Colville is about the pleasantest gentleman that comes here. Don't you, mamma?"
"Yes."
"He's so interesting, and says such nice things. I don't know whether children ought to think of such things, but I wish I was going to marry some one like Mr. Colville. Of course I should want to be tolerably old if I did. How old do you think a person ought to be to marry him?"
"You mustn't talk of such things, Effie," said her mother.
"No; I suppose it isn't very nice." She picked out a bud in her bouquet, and kissed it; then she held the nosegay at arm's-length before her, and danced away with it.