shed through my own hasty toilette, when--the door
opened, and who should walk in but Ralph Maplestone himself!

For different reasons his appearance struck consternation into the
breasts of all three beholders. I was naturally overcome with
embarrassment as to what he had come for now; the little girls were
seized with a devastating fear lest his arrival should interfere with
their treat. They leapt to their feet, and rent the air with
protestations.

"Oh, oh! It's the Same Man!"

"We're going out! We're going out! We've got on our hats."

"To the Zoo! So's Miss Harding. She's just going to put on her hat."

"It's our treat. Father's away. He's having a treat, and she
promised--she promised we could go!"

Tears sounded in the voices, showed in suspicious redness round the
eyes. Mr Maplestone smiled--like many grave people he has a beautiful
smile--he laid one big hand on the top of each little hat, and swayed
them gently to and fro.

"Well, and why not? Of course you are going! All good little girls go
to the Zoo, and ride on the elephants, and throw buns to the bears. You
are extra good little girls, and so you can see something else--a little
bird, not much bigger than a canary, who can talk and say words almost
as well as you can yourselves. And think of the monkeys!"

He withdrew one hand and held it out to me across the children's heads,
smiling and apologetic.

"I'm afraid I am looked upon as an obstacle. Please don't let me detain
you. I would not disappoint them for the world. I can call another
day."

But by this time fear had given place to gratitude and the quick
affection which children show to grown-ups who understand! Winifred and
Marion leapt at his arms, clung, wheedled, and implored.

"You come too! You come too! Show us the bird that talks. We want
you. We want you to come with us. Miss Harding wants you. You _do_
want him, don't you, Miss Harding?"

The leap of my heart showed that I did! The very suggestion had been
enough to give an altogether different aspect to the expedition; to
invest it with a spice of adventure, not to say romance, which was most
refreshing to a spinster living in a basement flat! I fought down an
inclination to laugh, _hoped_ that I conquered an inclination to blush,
and said primly:--

"My dears, you must not be exacting. Mr Milestone has no doubt
engagements--"

"Not one!" he contradicted eagerly. "Not one! Please let me come,