not let me interrupt your conversation, unless, as is often the case, I am too nearly connected with it to hear it. Pray what were you talking about?" said she, turning abruptly to Julia.
"We were not talking," replied the child, answering her question in the most literal manner—"Eda was telling us about her father's elephant"—
Mrs. Dalton made no direct reply, but exclaimed, "What, a fire already!—I never heard of a fire at this time of the year. I wonder, nurse, you suffer these children to sit burning themselves up in such a manner." Eda tried to answer, but her words choaked her; and, without waiting for it, Mrs. Dalton approached the window, and threw it up, though a small drizzling rain was beating against it: at this moment the door of the nursery opened again, and a most unusual visitor, Mr. Dalton, appeared "Come here, children," said he, depositing at the same time a variety of parcels on the table, "come and look at all the play-things your mamma has brought you from London:" catching sight of Mrs. Dalton, he added,
