any impression to the child. “Hold out your arms and catch me,” cried he; “I am going to jump.”
She appeared to comply; for he gave a little ringing laugh that was startlingly clear and fresh.
“He asked me what your name was,” babbled he, as he nestled in her arms. “He is always asking what your name is; Dad forgets, Dad does; or else it’s because he’s never seen you.”
“And what did you tell him?” she asked, ignoring the last remark with an echo of her sarcastic laugh.
“ Mrs. Smith, of course.”
She threw back her head and her whole form acquired an aspect that made Mr. Sylvester shudder. “That’s good,” she cried, “ Mrs. Smith by all means.” Then with a sudden lowering of her face to his—“ Mrs. Smith is good to you, isn’t she; lets you sit by her fire when she has any, and gives you peanuts to eat and sometimes spares you a penny!”