an be named,--state the figure for
it,--and I am game to put the money down. I won't bate you a single
farthing, sir, but I'll put down the money here and now, and I'll
thankfully throw you in a pound to take it. There!" The gentleman
smiled, and then, "Well, well," says he, "I must first know what she has
learned already. How do you communicate with her?" Then I showed him,
and she wrote in printed writing many names of things and so forth; and
we held some sprightly conversation, Sophy and me, about a little story
in a book which the gentleman showed her, and which she was able to read.
"This is most extraordinary," says the gentleman; "is it possible that
you have been her only teacher?" "I have been her only teacher, sir," I
says, "besides herself." "Then," says the gentleman, and more acceptable
words was never spoke to me, "you're a clever fellow, and a good fellow."
This he makes known to Sophy, who kisses his hands, claps her own, and
laughs and cries upon it.

We saw the gentleman four times in all, and when he took down my name and
asked how in the world it ever chanced to be Doctor, it come out that he
was own nephew by the sister's side, if you'll believe me, to the very
Doctor that I was called after. This made our footing still easier, and
he says to me:

"Now, Marigold, tell me what more do you want your adopted daughter to
know?"

"I want her, sir, to be cut off from the world as little as can be,
considering her deprivations, and therefore to be able to read whatever
is wrote with perfect ease and pleasure."

"My good fellow," urges the gentleman, opening his eyes wide, "why _I_
can't do that myself!"

I took his joke, and gave him a laugh (knowing by experience how flat you
fall without it), and I mended my words accordingly.

"What do you mean to do with her afterwards?" asks the gentleman, with a
sort of a doubtful eye. "To take her about the country?"

"In the cart, sir, but only in the cart. She will live a private life,
you understand, in the cart. I should never think of bringing her
infirmities before the public. I wouldn't make a show of her for any
money."

The gentleman nodded, and seemed to approve.

"Well," says he, "can you part with her for two years?"

"To do her that good,--yes, sir."

"There's another question," says the gentleman, looking towards her,--"can
she part with you for two years?"

I don't know that it was a harder matter of itself (for the other w