our room when she's here.' 'Little Adèle!' said I. 'I didn't know she was little—not small enough for that bed, at any rate.' 'Why, yes,' said she, 'Adèle is only four years old. The bedstead is quite large enough for her.' 'And she is not here now?' I said, utterly amazed at all this. 'No,' she answered, 'she is not here now, but we try to have her with us as much as we can, and always keep her little bed ready for her.' 'I suppose she's with her father's people,' I said, and she answered: 'Oh, yes,' and bade me good-night. What does all this mean? Our boarder told us that the daughter is grown up, and here his wife declares that she is only four years old! I don't know what in the world to make of this mystery!"
I could give Euphemia no clue. I supposed there was some mistake, and that was all I could say, except that I was sleepy, and that we could find out all about it in the morning. But Euphemia could not dismiss the subject from her mind. She said no more, but I could see—until I fell asleep—that she was thinking about it.
It must have been about the middle of the night, perhaps later, when I was suddenly awakened by Euphemia starting up in the bed, with the exclamation:
"I have it!"
"What?" I cried, sitting up in a great hurry. "What is it? What have you got? What's the matter?"
"I know it!" she said, "I know it. Our boarder is a grandfather! Little Adèle is the grown-up daughter's child. He was quite particular to say that his wife married very young. Just to think of it! So short a time ago he was living with us—a
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