ok her head; then she asked:

"Is it Hiram, the stammerer, the trainer, that they are hunting?"

"I fear it is."

"Yes, yes," said the child. "Stay--oh, dear! it will grieve you again,
but I think--I think they said--the shoes belonged--but I did not attend.
However, they were talking of a groom--a freedman--a stammerer. . . ."

"Then they certainly are hunting down an innocent man," cried Paula with
a deep sigh; and she sat down again in front of her toilet-table to
finish dressing. Her hands still moved mechanically, but she was lost in
thought; she answered the child vaguely, and let her rummage in her open
trunk till Mary pulled out the necklace that had been bereft of its gem,
and hung it round her neck. Just then there was a knock at the door and
Katharina, the widow Susannah's little daughter, came into the room. The
young girl, to whom the governor's wife wished to marry her tall son
scarcely reached to Paula's shoulder, but she was plump and pleasant to
look upon; as neat as if she had just been taken out of a box, with a
fresh, merry lovable little face. When she laughed she showed a gleaming
row of small teeth, set rather wide apart, but as white as snow; and her
bright eyes beamed on the world as gladly as though they had nothing that
was not pleasing to look for, innocent mischief to dream of. She too,
tried to win Paula's favor; but with none of Mary's devoted and unvarying
enthusiasm. Often, to be sure, she would devote herself to Paula with
such stormy vehemence that the elder girl was forced to be repellent;
then, on the other hand, if she fancied her self slighted, or treated
more coolly than Mary, she would turn her back on Paula with sulky
jealousy, temper and pouting. It always was in Paula's power to put an
end to the "Water-wagtails tantrums"--which generally had their comic
side--by a kind word or kiss; but without some such advances Katharina
was quite capable of indulging her humors to the utmost.

On the present occasion she flew into Paula's arm, and when her friend
begged, more quietly than usual that she would allow her first to finish
dressing, she turned away without any display of touchiness and took the
necklace from Mary's hand to put it on herself. It was of fine
workmanship, set with pearls, and took her fancy greatly; only the empty
medallion from which Hiram had removed the emerald with his knife spoiled
the whole effect. Still, it was a princely jewel, and when she had also
ta