"Yes, papa, very clever; I also have learned to make pictures." And she turned round and showed a small, fair face, of which the natural and usual expression seemed to be a smile of perfect sweetness.
"You should have brought me a specimen of your powers."
"I have brought a great many; they are in my trunk," said the child.
"She draws very—very carefully," the elder of the nuns remarked, speaking in French.
"I am glad to hear it. Is it you who have instructed her?"
"Happily, no," said the good sister, blushing a little. "Ce n'est pas ma partie. I teach nothing; I leave that to those who are wiser. We have an excellent drawing-master, Mr.—Mr.—what is his name?" she asked of her companion.
Her companion looked about at the carpet.
"It's a German name," she said in Italian, as if it needed to be translated.
"Yes," the other went on, "he is a German, and we have had him for many years."
The young girl, who was not heeding the conversation, had wandered away to the open door of the large room, and stood looking into the garden.
"And you, my sister, are French," said the gentleman.
"Yes, sir," the woman replied, gently. "I speak to the pupils in my own language. I know no other. But we have sisters of other countries—English, German, Irish. They all speak their own tongue."
The gentleman gave a smile.
"Has my daughter been under the care of one of the Irish ladies?" And then, as he saw that his visitors suspected a joke
