It's a beast!" I told her she was tired, and I was sorry.

I put my hand upon her head, and touched her forehead, and said it was hot now but would be cool to-morrow.

She still stood pouting and frowning at me, but presently put down her egg-cup and turned softly towards the bed where Ada lay.
"She is very pretty!" she said with the same knitted brow and in the same uncivil manner.
I assented with a smile.
"An orphan.

Ain't she ?" "Yes." "But knows a quantity, I suppose?
Can dance, and play music, and sing?
She can talk French, I suppose, and do geography, and globes, and needlework, and everything ?" "No doubt," said I.
"I can't," she returned.

"I can't do anything hardly, except write.
I'm always writing for Ma.