24 The Little Stowaway.

 

houses, and there Mr. Owen and
Jane talked and talked till 1 got
tired of the hot air, and went to
play outside; and there just outside
was Gus, always waiting to pick me
the prettiest flowers, and find me
the first sweet violets. But I was
shy, and his words were so foreign
that they frightened me; nor did
I like at all being called “ Petite
mademoiselle,” which was not my
name, and couldn’t mean anything
that I could think of. At last I
grew braver, and one day I ven-
tured to ask—

‘Who is your papa?”

“Me hab no papa, no mam-