ped in
to lunch, for which my great-grandmother stayed. We were sitting in the
drawing-room afterwards, when "Mrs. Vandaleur's carriage" was announced.
As my great-grandmother took leave of me, she took off a watch and chain
and hung them on my neck. It was a small French watch with an enamelled
back of dark blue, on which was the word "Souvenir" in small pearls.

"I gave it to your grandfather long years ago, my child, and he gave it
back to me--before he sailed. I would only part with it to his son's
child. Farewell, _petite_! Be good, dear child--try to be good. Adieu,
Mrs. Buller, and a thousand thanks! Major Buller, I am at your service."

Major Buller took the hand she held out to him and led the old lady to
the front door, whither we all followed them.

Mrs. Vandaleur's carriage was before the steps. It was a very quaint
little box on two wheels, in by no means good repair. It was drawn by a
pony, white, old, and shaggy. At the pony's head stood a small boy in
decent, but not smart, plain clothes.

"Put the mat over the wheel to save my dress, Adolphe," said the old
lady; and as the little boy obeyed her order she stepped nimbly into
the carriage, assisted by the Major. "The silk is old," she observed
complacently; "but it is my best, of course, or it would not have been
worn to-day," and she gave a graceful little bow towards Aunt Theresa;
"and I hope that, with care, it will serve as such for the rest of my
life, which cannot be very long."

"If it wears as well as you do, Madam," said Major Buller, tucking her
in, "it may; not otherwise."

The Surgeon was leaning over the other side of the little cart, and
seemed also to be making polite speeches. It recalled the way that men
used to hang upon my mother's carriage. The old lady smiled, and made
gracious little replies, and meanwhile deliberately took off her kid
gloves, folded, and put them into her pocket. She then drew on a pair of
old worsted ones.

"Economy, economy," she said, smiling, and giving a hand on each side of
her to the two gentlemen. "May I trouble you for the reins? Many thanks.
Farewell, gentlemen! I cannot pretend to fear that my horse will catch
cold--his coat is too thick; but you may. Adieu, Mrs. Buller, once more.
Farewell, little one, I wish you good-morning, Madam. Adolphe, seat
yourself; make your bow, Adolphe. Adieu, dear friends!"

She gave a flick with the whip, which the pony resented by shaking his
head; after which he s