girl, who kept things to herself, and brooded upon them, unless questions drew forth her small opinions and ponderings.
In her memory she had stored several rather odd sayings of Kate's, and when a very nice man came to the house, appearing to be surprised that her mother was out, Poppet was far too polite not to answer his questions. She had often been told not to ask too many questions herself, because speech was silver, while silence was golden; and little girls should be seen and not heard. But nobody had ever suggested that a "grown-up" had not a right to put as many queries as he pleased, and to have them answered.
Besides, the man was a particularly kind, agreeable "grown-up." He happened to have a beautiful picture-book in one pocket, and a small box of wonderful sweets from London, in another. Both of these, he said, should be for Poppet, if she were a good girl, and talked to him prettily.
So Poppet talked as prettily as she knew how; and by the time the book and the box were earned, the kind man knew that Kate Craigie had said horrid things about Lady Hereward—poor Lady Hereward, whom (Poppet had been informed) she would never, never see any more. Kate had told Poppet's mother that she would like to shake Lady Hereward, and box her ears, because she was always saying how much better the vanished Liane was than any other
