The only alternative left to Mr. Sarrazin was to plead ignorance.
While Kitty was instructing him on the subject of her governess,
he had time to consider what he should say to her next. The
result added one more to the lost opportunities of Mr. Sarrazin's
life.

"You see," the child gravely continued, "you are a clever man;
and you have come here to help mamma. I have got that much out of
grandmamma, if I have got nothing else. Don't look at me; look at
your float. My papa has gone away and Syd has left me without
even saying good-by, and we have given up our nice old house in
Scotland and come to live here. I tell you I don't understand it.
If you see your float begin to tremble, and then give a little
dip down as if it was going to sink, pull your line out of the
water; you will most likely find a fish at the end of it. When I
ask mamma what all this means, she says there is a reason, and I
am not old enough to understand it, and she looks unhappy, and
she gives me a kiss, and it ends in that way. You've got a bite;
no you haven't; it's only a nibble; fish are so sly. And
grandmamma is worse still. Sometimes she tells me I'm a spoiled
child; and sometimes she says well-behaved little girls don't ask
questions. That's nonsense--and I think it's hard on me. You look
uncomfortable. Is it my fault? I don't want to bother you; I only
want to know why Syd has gone away. When I was younger I might
have thought the fairies had taken her. Oh, no! that won't do any
longer; I'm too old. Now tell me."

Mr. Sarrazin weakly attempted to gain time: he looked at his
watch. Kitty looked over his shoulder: "Oh, we needn't be in a