She had put on her uncle's big pearl earrings and one string of big pearls, on purpose to show him; he so loved what was beautiful and refined.
"Thou art like a queen, Cherisette," he told her.

"Much more beautiful than when we had our tea party, and I wore Papa's paper cap.

And everything new! The uncle, then, is very rich," he went on, while he stroked the velvet on her dress.
And she kissed and soothed him to sleep in her arms, when he was ready for his bed.

It was getting quite late, and she sang a soft, Slavonic cradle song, in a low cooing voice, and, every now and then, before the poor little fellow sank entirely to rest, he would open his beautiful, pathetic eyes, and they would swim with love and happiness, while he murmured, "Adored Cherisette!" The next day--Saturday--she never left him.

They played games together, and puzzles.