still she was not above the happy genial merriment of childhood,--only
her silver laugh was more attuned, and her gestures more composed, than
those of children habituated to many play-fellows usually are. Mrs.
Hazeldean liked her best when she was grave, and said "she would become
a very sensible woman." Mrs. Dale liked her best when she was gay, and
said "she was born to make many a heart ache;" for which Mrs. Dale was
properly reproved by the Parson. Mrs. Hazeldean gave her a little set of
garden tools; Mrs. Dale a picture-book and a beautiful doll. For a long
time the book and the doll had the preference. But Mrs. Hazeldean having
observed to Riccabocca that the poor child looked pale, and ought to be
a good deal in the open air, the wise father ingeniously pretended to
Violante that Mrs. Riccabocca had taken a great fancy to the
picture-book, and that he should be very glad to have the doll, upon
which Violante hastened to give them both away, and was never so happy
as when mamma (as she called Mrs. Riccabocca) was admiring the
picture-book, and Riccabocca with austere gravity dandled the doll. Then
Riccabocca assured her that she could be of great use to him in the
garden; and Violante instantly put into movement her spade, hoe, and
wheelbarrow.

This last occupation brought her into immediate contact with Mr. Leonard
Fairfield; and that personage one morning, to his great horror, found
Miss Violante had nearly exterminated a whole celery-bed, which she had
ignorantly conceived to be a crop of weeds.

Lenny was extremely angry. He snatched away the hoe, and said angrily,
"You must not do that, Miss. I'll tell your papa if you--"

Violante drew herself up, and never having been so spoken to before, at
least since her arrival in England, there was something comic in the
surprise of her large eyes, as well as something tragic in the dignity
of her offended mien. "It is very naughty of you, Miss," continued
Leonard in a milder tone, for he was both softened by the eyes and awed
by the mien, "and I trust you will not do it again."

"_Non capisco,_" (I don't understand,) murmured Violante, and the dark
eyes filled with tears. At that moment up came Jackeymo; and Violante,
pointing to Leonard, said, with an effort not to betray her emotion,
"_Il fanciullo e molto grossolano_," (he is a very rude boy.)

Jackeymo turned to Leonard with the look of an enraged tiger. "How you
dare, scum of de earth that you are," cried h