"
Bessie was very communicative, and Miss McPherson learned in a few
minutes more of the Bohemian life and habits of her nephew and his wife
than she had learned at her brother's house in London, where she had
been staying for a few weeks, and where Mistress Daisy was not held in
very high esteem. And all the time she talked, Bessie's little hands
were busy with the folds of the black dress on the woman's knee, rubbing
and smoothing it with the restlessness of an active, nervous child. But
Miss McPherson would hardly have minded if the hands had worn holes in
her dress, so interested was she in the little creature talking to her
so freely.
"Would you like to go and live with me?" she asked at last. "You shall
go to school with children of your own age, and have all you want to
eat, good bread and milk, and muffins and sirup, and--"
"_Cheux fleur au gratin?_ Can I have that? I liked that best of all the
day I went to _table d'hote_ in Paris with mamma," Bessie interrupted,
and Miss McPherson replied:
"No, but you can have huckleberry pie in summer, and a sled in winter,
to ride down hill.
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