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"I'm ver-ry sor-ry, mam," she said, "but I see Mr. Fitz-roy down there on the riv-er " "Where, where?" cried the other, rather to gain time to collect her wits than to ascertain Medenham's whereabouts. The girl pointed. "In that lit-tle boat, all by its-self, mam," she said. "Oh, it was of no importance. By the way," and Mrs.
Now we are a-cross the riv-er, and now we must get on the car, musn’t we? What car must we get on? O I see it now, the yellow car. Now we are going a-long and I can see—O what a pret-ty dress in that store. O what real nice can-dy that is. I wish I had some don’t you? Now we’re at the house. Is it the one on the cor-ner, or the next one to it, or is it the brick house with the green blinds?
"Do they live in the town of Evna now?" "They are both gone," replied the machine. "Mr. Smith was an art-ist, as well as an in-vent-or, and he paint-ed a pic-ture of a riv-er which was so nat-ur-al that, as he was reach-ing a-cross it to paint some flow-ers on the op-po-site bank, he fell in-to the wa-ter and was drowned." "Oh, I'm sorry for that!" exclaimed the little girl.
Now we go along, along, along, along, and now we are at the de-pot. I didn’t ev-er be here ei-ther—there is a riv-er here, and a mill and a—O what a pret-ty cow—somebody is go-ing to milk the cow. There is a town here—it seems as if I did be here before—yes I am sure—O what a pret-ty lit-tle car-riage, and what a pret-ty dog.
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