A DARLING LITTLE DUNCE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 7, 13 February 1892, Page 167

A DARLING LITTLE DUNCE.

She did not look at all like a dunce, as she sat on the lowest step of the new house that the workingmen were finishing inside. I wondered whose home it was to be, and I fancied that the little girl might know. ‘ Can you tell me who is building this house ?’ I asked. ‘ Oh, my papa,’ she said, looking up into my face with the brightest blue eyes I ever saw. ‘ And who is your papa ?’ I asked. ‘ Why, he’s papa I’ she said, with loving emphasis. ‘ Yes, but what is your papa’s name ?’ ‘ His name is papa. ’ ‘ But what do other people call him ?’ I urged. ‘ They say Mr —what ?’ ‘ I—don’t —know,’a little cloud coming over the sunny face. ‘ Can’t you recollect what strangers call your papa, gentlemen who ask you if he is at home ? Don’t they ever ask you that?’ ‘ Oh, yes ; they say, “ Is your papa at home !” ‘ ‘ Well, what is your name ?’ I asked, thinking I might now find out what I wanted to know. ‘Celeste,’ was the answer. ‘ Celeste what ?’ ‘ Celeste Rosabel Marguerite. That is enough, isn't it ? Mamma says I have almost as many names as a princess.’ Just as I was turning away, a girl of about eight years ran out from a house opposite. • There's Bessie .' P’r aps she'll know. Bessie ! Bes sie !’ called the little one at my side. And Bessie came. • Bessie, what’s papa’s other name sides papa ?’ ‘ Why, Mr Griffith, of course ! What a little dunce you are !’ ‘ Am I a dunce ?’ and the blue eyes looked up tearfully. ‘ You are a darling,’ I whispered, taking the sweet upturned face between my hands and kissing it. Then the blue eyes smiled again, and the dimples danced back to their places, and I continued my way down town.