glass-houses directly we came out into the garden.

"Why, Miss Sissy," she would say, "there never was anything like the
ferns, and the orange-trees, and the cactuses in them houses; and Mr.
Owen so civil-like in showing them to us, too."

So off we went to the hot-houses, and there Mr. Owen and Jane talked
and talked till I got tired of the hot air, and went to play outside;
and there just outside was Gus, always waiting to pick me the prettiest
flowers, and find me the first sweet violets. But I was shy, and his
words were so foreign that they frightened me; nor did I like at all
being called "Petite mademoiselle," which was not my name, and couldn't
mean anything that I could think of. At last I grew braver, and one day
I ventured to ask--

"Who is your papa?"

"Me hab no papa, no mamma!" he said, looking very full at me.

"Where do you live then?" I asked. "You're not a bit like Bobbie!"

"Me live wid de Capitaine; me never will leaf de Capitaine--never,
never, never!" he answered eagerly.

This made me feel very queer, and I think I looked half-frightened, for
his look changed quickly, and he said, smiling his own sunny smile--

"Me fetch petite mademoiselle somet'ing nice; me fetch de puss dat de
Capitaine just bring home!"