thought was the best thing to eat, and whose dress was the prettiest,
and which lady was the loveliest--Oh, my goodness! Look there!"

Already some of the guests were departing; and Van Landing, looking at
his watch, saw it was twenty minutes past six. Obviously among those
present were some who failed to feel the enthusiasm for weddings that
his new friend felt. With a smile he put the watch away, and, placing
the child's feet more firmly on the railing, held her so that she
could rest against his shoulder. She could hardly be more than twelve
or thirteen, and undersized for that, but the oval face was one of
singular intelligence, and her eyes--her eyes were strangely like the
only eyes on earth he had ever loved, and as she settled herself more
comfortably his heart warmed curiously, warmed as it had not done for
years. Presently she looked down at him.

"I don't think you're a damanarkist." Her voice was joyous. "You're
so nice. Can you see good?"

"Very good. There isn't much to see. One might if it weren't for
that--"

"Old tunnel! I don't think they ought to have them if it isn't snowing
or raining. Oh, I do hope Father can come out soon! If I tell you
something will you promise not to tell, not even say it to yourself
out loud?" Her face was raised to his. "I'm going to get Father's
Christmas present to-night. We're going down-town when he is through
over there. He can't see me buy it, and it's something he wants
dreadfully. I've been saving ever since last Christmas. It's going to
cost two dollars and seventy-five cents." The eager voice trailed off
into an awed whisper. "That's an awful lot to spend on something