take my ward out," he said deliberately,
"to--er--taste the air in the Alameda, and--er--view the shops. We
may--er--also--indulge in--er--slight suitable refreshment;--er--seed
cake--or--bread and butter--and--a dish of tea."

Miss Tish, now thoroughly subdued, was delighted to grant Miss Stannard
the half holiday permitted on such occasions. She begged the colonel to
suit his own pleasure, and intrusted "the dear child" to her guardian
"with the greatest confidence."

The colonel made a low bow, and Pansy, demurely slipping her hand
into his, passed with him into the hall; there was a slight rustle of
vanishing skirts, and Pansy pressed his hand significantly. When they
were well outside, she said, in a lower voice:--

"Don't look up until we're under the gymnasium windows." The colonel,
mystified but obedient, strutted on. "Now!" said Pansy. He looked up,
beheld the windows aglow with bright young faces, and bewildering with
many handkerchiefs and clapping hands, stopped, and then taking off his
hat, acknowledged the salute with a sweeping bow. Pansy was delighted.
"I knew they'd be there; I'd already fixed 'em. They're just dyin' to
know you."

The colonel felt a certain glow of pleasure, "I--er--had already
intimated a--er--willingness to--er--inspect the classes;
but--I--er--understood that the rules"--

"They're sick old rules," interrupted the child. "Tish and Prinkwell are
the rules! You say just right out that you WILL! Just overdo her!"

The colonel had a vague sense that he ought to correct both the spirit
and language of this insurrectionary speech, but Pansy pulled him along,
and then swept him quite away with a torrent of prattle of the school,
of her friends, of the teachers, of her life and its infinitely small
miseries and pleasures. Pansy was voluble; never before had the
colonel found himself relegated to the place of a passive listener.
Nevertheless, he liked it, and as they passed on, under the shade of
the Alameda, with Pansy alternately swinging from his hand and skipping
beside him, there was a vague smile of satisfaction on his face.
Passers-by turned to look after the strangely assorted pair, or smiled,
accepting them, as the colonel fancied, as father and daughter. An odd
feeling, half of pain and half of pleasure, gripped at the heart of the
empty and childless man.

And now, as they approached the more crowded thoroughfares, the
instinct of chivalrous protection was keen in his bre