The lady smiled and shook her head. "No, dear child," she said, still
with that motherly touch of the hand on the fair head. "I never
thought of such a pretty play as that, but I was very happy as a child
playing with my--with my sister. I had a dear, dear sister, Star.
Would you like to hear about her?"
"Yes," said Star, with wondering eyes. "Was she a little girl?"
"Such a lovely little girl!" said the lady. "Her hair was dark, but
her eyes were like yours, Star, blue and soft. We played together
always as children, and we grew up together, two loving, happy girls.
Then my sister married: and by and by, dear, she had a little baby.
A sweet little girl baby, and she named it Isabel, after me."
"I was a little girl baby, too," said Star, "but I wasn't named
anything; I came so: just Star."
"Little Isabel had another name," said the lady. "Her other name was
Maynard, because that was her father's name. Her father was Hugh
Maynard. Have you ever seen or heard that name, my child?"
Star shook her head. "No!" she said; "my poor papa's name was H. M.
It was marked on his shirt and han'k'chief, Daddy says. And my poor
mamma's name was Helena, just like Helena in 'Midsummer Night's
Dream.
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