Moving a little nearer to her,
she began,
"A great many years ago, nearly eighteen, we will say, a beautiful
little girl, eight years old, I guess, with curls like yours,
waited one night in just such a house as this, for her father, who
had been long in Europe, and who was to bring her a new mother,
and a dear baby sister, two years old or thereabouts."
"Didn't I wear my blue dress, trimmed with white?" Nina asked
suddenly, her mind seeming to have followed Edith's, and grasped
the meaning of what she heard.
"I dare say you did," Edith answered; "at all events this little
girl was very beautiful as she waited in the twilight for the
travellers."
"Call the little girl Nina, please, I'll get at it better then,"
was the next interruption; and with a smile, Edith said,
"Nina, then, waited till they came--her father, her new mother
Petrea, and--"
"Beautiful Petrea," Nina exclaimed, "la belle Petrea, black hair
like yours, Miggie, and voice like the soft notes of the piano.
She taught me a heap of tunes which I never have forgotten, but
tell me more of the black-eyed baby, Nina's precious sister.
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