It was not too late, and, after a scarcely-perceptible pause, she made answer: "It was in your dear papa's _answer_ to my invitation, my love.

Oh! so shocked I was dear little Sophie couldn't come--lay awake _all_ that night with a headache--yes, _indeed_!--when he _wrote_ to me, you know--such a dear, noble letter it _was_, too! Oh! I read it over a dozen--_twenty_ times at least!--he mentioned this new pupil of his--seemed interested in him--of course I _can't_ help being interested in whatever interests any of you dear ones, you know--he mentioned his strange name and all--it _is_ a strange name, isn't it, love ?" "It isn't his real name," interposed Cornelia; "nobody except papa knows who he is.

It's just like one of those ancient names, you know--the Christian name and the surname in one." "Oh, yes, I see--so odd, isn't it ?--such a _mystery_, and all that--yes--so that's how I came to speak of him, I suppose.

One gets _ideas_ of a person that way sometimes, don't you know, though they may never have actually _seen_ them at all?
Oh! when I was a _young_ thing, I was just full of those--_ideals, I_ used to call them--oh, you know all about it, I _dare_ say!" "He met with a very serious accident just before I came away," said Cornelia to the ear-trumpet; "he stopped Dolly--our horse--she was running away with papa in the wagon.

He saved papa beautifully, but he was dreadfully hurt--his collar-bone was broken, and he was kicked, and almost killed.