It was obvious that she did not know
what he had heard. The rector explained.
"My dear little girl," he said, "your aunt Sally"
-- they had agreed upon the relationship of uncle and
aunt to Content -- "tells me that you have been
telling her about your -- big sister Solly." The rector
half gasped as he said Solly. He seemed to himself
to be on the driveling verge of idiocy before the pro-
nunciation of that absurdly inane name.
Content's responding voice came from the pink-
and-white nest in which she was snuggled, like the
fluting pipe of a canary.
"Yes, sir," said she.
"My dear child," said the rector, "you know
perfectly well that you have no big sister -- Solly."
Every time the rector said Solly he swallowed hard.
Content smiled as Sally had described her smiling.
She said nothing. The rector felt reproved and
looked down upon from enormous heights of inno-
cence and childhood and the wisdom thereof. How-
ever, he persisted.
"Content," he said, "what did you mean by
telling your aunt Sally what you did?"
"I was talking with my big sister Solly," replied
Content, with the calmness of one stating a funda-
mental truth of nature.
The rector's face grew stern. "Content," he said,
"look at me."
Content looked. Looking seemed to be the in-
stinctive action which distinguished her as an indi-
vidual.
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