with them, and marked deference was paid to her. In the meantime Jumbo
had blown up a brisk fire; we were employed by Fleta in shredding
vegetables, which she threw into the boiling kettle. Num appeared with
more fuel, and at last there was nothing more to do. Fleta sat down by
us, and parting her long hair, which had fallen over her eyes, looked us
both in the face.

"Who gave you that name, Fleta?" inquired I.

"They gave it me," replied she.

"And who are they?"

"Nattée, and Melchior, her husband."

"But you are not their daughter?"

"No, I am not--that is, I believe not."

The little girl stopped short, as if assured that she had said too much,
cast her eyes down on the ground, and folded her arms, so that her hands
rested on each opposite shoulder.

Timothy whispered to me, "She must have been stolen, depend upon it."

"Silence," said I.

The little girl overheard him, and looking at him, put her finger across
her mouth, looking to where Num and Jumbo were sitting. I felt an
interest for this child before I had been an hour in her company; she