"I shall have to go with papa soon: I shall not stay long at your mother's."
"Yes, ye s; you will stay with me I am sure. I have a pony on which you shall ride, and no end of books with pictures to show you."
"Are you going to live here now?"
"I am. Does that please you? Do you like me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I think you queer."
"My face, ma'am?"
"Your face and all about you. You have long red hair."
"Auburn hair, if you please: mama calls it auburn, or golden, and so do all her friends. But even with my 'long red hair,'" (and he waved his mane with a sort of triumph—tawny he himself well knew that it was, and he was proud of the leonine hue) "I cannot possibly be queerer than is your ladyship."
"You call me queer?"
"Certainly."
(After a pause) "I think I shall go to bed."
"A little thing like you ought to have been in
