"Well--that's pretty, too. And where are you living?" "In First Street." "Why, that's way up-town! And--let me see--you did live at Yonkers? I've never been there. Is it a town?" "We lived on a great big farm. And oh, the Croton water pipe came right across one corner of it." "Ah, you should have seen the celebration! Such a wonderful, indescribable thing!" "Margaret came down and most of the boys. Mother said I would be crushed to death." "And she couldn't spare her little girl! Well, I don't blame her. Do you go to school?" "No, ma'am, not yet." All the children but the very rough ones said "no, ma'am," and "yes, ma'am," in those days. "But I did go at Yonkers." "And what did you learn." She was quite astonished at the little girl's attainments, and her simplicity she thought charming. When Stephen came for her, Mrs. Morris said: "I have really fallen in love with your little sister. You must bring her down again. _We_ think there's nothing to compare with our Bowling Green and the Battery." They bade each other a pleasant adieu. It was time to go home, indeed. The little girl felt very happy and joyous, and she thought her pretty clothes had helped. Perhaps they had. She sat on her father's knee that night telling him about Mrs. Morris. And she suddenly said: "Father, what was the Reign of Terror?" "The Reign of Terror? Oh, it was a horrible time of war in France. Where did you pick up that?" "There was an old man in the Green who had on a queer sort of dress--knee-breeches and buckles on his shoes like those of grandfather's. And ruffles all down his shirt-bosom and long, curly, white hair. And Mrs. Morris said he was in prison in the Reign of Terror, and then came to America with his daughter, and that his mind had something the matter with it. Do you suppose he got awfully frightened?" "I dare say he did, my dear. When you are a big girl you will learn all about it in history. But you needn't hurry. There are a great many pleasanter things to learn." She leaned her head down on her father's shoulder and thought how sad it must be to lose one's mind. Was that the part of you always thinking? How curious it was to always think of something! Your feet didn't always walk, your hands didn't always work, but that strange thing inside of you never stopped. Oh, yes, it had to when you were asleep. But then you sometimes dreamed. And the little girl fell fast asleep over psychology that she didn't know a word about.