It has deep, soulful, yearning eyes.

It moves about the house softly, shedding an atmosphere of patient resignation.

It says: "Yes, dear papa." "No, dear mamma." It has but one ambition--to be good and useful.

It has beautiful thoughts about the stars.

You don't know whether it is in the house or isn't: you find it with its little face pressed close against the window-pane watching the golden sunset.