and excessively devoted, though a little too jealous. Thus Bella ran on merrily, in a manner perfectly enchanting to Pa, who was as willing to put his head into the Sultan’s tub of water as the beggar-boys below the window were to put their heads in the mud.
“I suppose, my dear,” said Pa after dinner, “we may come to the conclusion at home, that we have lost you for good?”
Bella shook her head. Didn’t know. Couldn’t say. All she was able to report was, that she was most handsomely supplied with everything she could possibly want, and that whenever she hinted at leaving Mr. and Mrs. Boffin, they wouldn’t hear of it.
“And now, Pa,” pursued Bella, “I’ll make a confession to you. I am the most mercenary little wretch that ever lived in the world.”
“I should hardly have thought it of you, my dear,” returned her father, first glancing at himself; and then at the dessert.
“I understand what you mean, Pa, but it’s not that. It’s not that I care for