bit. But she said with brave sweetness:

"Hannah Ann. I was named after both grandmothers."

"That's a long name for such a little girl. I believe I should call you
Nannie or Nansie. And Mr. Morris would call you Nan at once. I never
knew such a man for short names. We've always called our Elizabeth Bess,
and half the time her father calls her Bet, to save one letter."

The little girl laughed. The economy of the thing seemed funny.

"What does your father call you?"

"'Little girl,' most always. Margaret was grown into quite a big girl
when I was born, so I was the little girl."

"Well--that's pretty, too. And where are you living?"

"In First Street."

"Why, that's way up-town! And--let me see--you did live at Yonkers? I've
never been there. Is it a town?"

"We lived on a great big farm. And oh, the Croton water pipe came right
across one corner of it."

"Ah, you should have seen the celebration! Such a wonderful,
indescribable thing!"

"Margaret came down and most of the boys. Mother said I would be crushed
to death."

"And she couldn't spare her little girl! Well, I don't blame her. Do you
go to school?"

"No, ma'am, not yet." All the children but the very rough ones said "no,
ma'am," and "yes, ma'am," in those days. "But I did go at Yonkers."

"And what did you learn."

She was quite astonished at the little girl's attainments, and her
simplicity she thought charming. When Stephen came for her, Mrs. Morris
said:

"I have really fallen in love with your little sister. You must bring
her down again. _We_ think there's nothing to compare with our Bowling
Green and the Battery."

They bade each other a pleasant adieu. It was time to go home, indeed.
The little girl felt very happy and joyous, and she thought her pretty
clothes had helped. Perhaps they had.

She sat on her father's knee that night telling him about Mrs. Morris.
And she suddenly said:

"Father, what was the Reign of Terror?"

"The Reign of Terror? Oh, it was a horrible time of war in France. Where
did you pick up that?"

"There was an old man in the Green who had on a queer sort of
dress--knee-breeches and buckles on his shoes like those of
grandfather's. And ruffles all down his shirt-bosom and long, curly,
white hair. And Mrs. Morris said he was in prison in the Reign of
Terror, and then came to America with his daughter, and that his mind
had something the matter with it. Do you suppose he got awfully
frightened?"

"I d