mours. Look here! Fal, lal, de laddy, daddy (singing fantastically.) Why don't you smile, Miss? You love dat air, don't you? (putting her hand soothingly on Charlotte's shoulder, and grinning in her face.)
Charl. (shaking off her hand impatiently, turning her back to her, and sitting on the other side of the stool.) I don't like it a bit.
Gov. O, but you do! And den de pretty steps I shew'd you: if you would read your lesson, now, we should dance dem togeder. (singing and dancing some French steps fantastically.) Why don't you look at me? Don't it amuse you, Miss?
Charl. What amusement is it to me, do you think, to see a pair of old fringed shoes clattering upon the boards?
Gov. (shrugging her shoulders.) Mon Dieu! she has no taste for any of de elegancies. (putting her hand upon Charlotte's shoulder coaxingly.) But if you don't speak well de French and write well de French, de pretty fine gentlemans won't admire you.
Charl. (shaking off her hand again, and turning from her to sit on the other side of the stool.) And what do I care for de pretty fine gentlemans, or de pretty fine ladies either? I wish there was not such a thing in the world as either of them.
Gov. (casting up her eyes.) Mon Dieu! She wish us all out of de world.
Charl. I'm sure I should live an easier life than I do, if there was not—
