"Pray pardon me," said madame with a gracious little nod; "I would not
deesturb you, but the babee, he ees so sweet! You will let me give to
him the orange?"

"Oh, certainly; thank you! It will be a great treat for him," rising and
coming forward, with her book in her hand. "Won't you come in and rest a
moment? The sun is warm this morning."

"Thank you, mooch; it ees indeed most warm! May I not here sit on the
step of the door by yourself?"

"Oh, let me bring you a chair," running to get one. "There, this will be
more comfortable," placing it just within the open door.

"That is true; t'anks! Come, mine babee, let me to you show how an
orange is to eat, when one has no care for the appearance--it is
nature's own way." She cut a tiny hole through the thick rind with her
pearl-handled penknife, then put it to the child's lips and bade him
suck out the juice, as the little bees suck honey from the lily-buds.

Sara watched her delightedly. How graceful, fair, and easy she was! What
a beautiful dress she wore--perfectly simple, yet with an air of taste
and style even her unaccustomed eyes could note. How delicate her
features, how refined her voice, and with what a small white hand she
managed the little knife!

She felt at once that here was a woman different from any she had ever
seen before--perhaps the first one for whom she felt the word "lady" was
no misnomer.