darn their stockings."

Meantime the children were aiming at Emilia, whose butterfly
looks amazed and charmed them, but who evidently did not know
what to do with their eager affection.

"I know about you," said little Helen; "I know what you said
when you were little."

"Did I say anything?" asked Emilia, carelessly.

"Yes," replied the child, and began to repeat the oft-told
domestic tradition in an accurate way, as if it were a school
lesson. "Once you had been naughty, and your papa thought it
his duty to slap you, and you cried; and he told you in French,
because he always spoke French with you, that he did not punish
you for his own pleasure. Then you stopped crying, and asked,
'Pour le plaisir de qui alors?' That means 'For whose pleasure
then?' Hope said it was a droll question for a little girl to
ask."

"I do not think it was Emilia who asked that remarkable
question, little girl," said Kate.

"I dare say it was," said Emilia; "I have been asking it all my
life." Her eyes grew very moist, what with fatigue and
excitement. But just then, as is apt to happen in this world,
they were all suddenly recalled from tears to tea, and the
children smothered their curiosity in strawberries and cream.