Her laughter was delightful to the ear, there was such a mellowness, and healthiness, and frankness about it.

On the other hand, that it should be directed at my misfortune was exasperating.

I suppose my perplexity showed in my face, for when she had eased her laughter and looked at me with a sobering countenance, she immediately went off into more peals.
"You poor child," she gurgled at last.

"And when I think of all the cream of tartar I made you consume!" It was rather presumptuous of her to poor-child me, and I resolved to take advantage of the data I already possessed in order to ascertain just how many years she was my junior.

She had told me she was twelve years old the time the _Dixie_ collided with the river steamer in San Francisco Bay.