Her talent for every species of drollery, grimace, and mimicry,--for dancing, tumbling, climbing, singing, whistling, imitating every sound that hit her fancy,--seemed inexhaustible.

In her play-hours, she invariably had every child in the establishment at her heels, open-mouthed with admiration and wonder,--not excepting Miss Eva, who appeared to be fascinated by her wild diablerie, as a dove is sometimes charmed by a glittering serpent.

Miss Ophelia was uneasy that Eva should fancy Topsy's society so much, and implored St.Clare to forbid it.
"Poh! let the child alone," said St.Clare.

"Topsy will do her good." "But so depraved a child,--are you not afraid she will teach her some mischief ?" "She can't teach her mischief; she might teach it to some children, but evil rolls off Eva's mind like dew off a cabbage-leaf,--not a drop sinks in." "Don't be too sure," said Miss Ophelia.

"I know I'd never let a child of mine play with Topsy." "Well, your children needn't," said St.Clare, "but mine may; if Eva could have been spoiled, it would have been done years ago." Topsy was at first despised and contemned by the upper servants.