"Yes, the other was shot off in the war years ago. Well, when Lloyd was
younger, she had a temper so much like his, and wore such a dear little
Napoleon hat, that everybody took to calling her the Little Colonel."

"How old is she now?" asked Malcolm.

"About Keith's age, isn't she, Aunt Allison?" asked Virginia.

"Yes," was the answer. "She is nearly eight, I believe. She has
outgrown most of her naughtiness now."

"I love to hear her talk," said Virginia. "She leaves out all of her r's
in such a soft, sweet way."

"All Southerners do that," said Malcolm, pompously, "and I think it
sounds lots better than the way Yankees talk."

"You boys don't talk like the Little Colonel," retorted Virginia, who
had often been teased by them for not being a Southerner. "You're all
mixed up every which way. Some things you say like darkeys, and some
things like English people, and it doesn't sound a bit like the
Little Colonel."

"Oh, well, that's because we've travelled abroad so much, don't you
know," drawled Malcolm, "and we've been in so many different countries,
and had an English tutor, and all that sort of a thing. We couldn't help
picking up a bit of an accent, don't you know." His superior tone made
Virginia long to slap him.