Silvy was so perfectly mild and harmless in appearance,
however, that I began to feel reassured.
"I've heard about you, Silvy," I continued, cheerfully. "I'm the teacher,
you know. You've heard them speak of the teacher?"
"So glad," continued Silvy, in the same low, cooing tone; "so glad to
meet the queen of heaven."
"Hush!" said I then. "You mustn't say that again. Draw your shawl up
tighter." For in spite of the bonfire, the wind was blowing cold on the
hill.
While I spoke Silvy had become absorbed in watching the fire again. I
would have walked quietly away, but as I turned to go she thrust her head
toward me quickly and whispered:--
"Wait! don't--you--ever--tell!"
Silvy put her hand to her lips.
"No," said I, smiling.
"Silvy never told," she went on; "except to you. You've got a key.
Silvy's got a key. She keeps things all locked up, Silvy does. Emily
don't have any key. She talks--she talks all over--don't you tell--but
Silvy lives with Emily--so bad," said Silvy, heaving a gentle sigh and
speaking in a tone of the deepest confidence; "so bad not to have any
key."
"That's true, I think," said I, beginning to find my strange companion
rather interesting.
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