crowding on to one of the excursion steamers, a band was
playing its merriest holiday music.

Far away in the distance she could see the shining snow crown of Mont
Blanc, and it gave her an odd feeling, as if she were living in a
geography lesson, to know that she was bounded on one side by the famous
Alpine mountain, and on the other by the River Rhone, whose source she had
often traced on the map. The sunshine, the music, and the gay crowds made
it seem to Lloyd as if the whole world were out for a holiday, and she ate
her melon and listened to the plans for the day with the sensation that
something very delightful was about to happen.

"We'll go shopping this morning," said Mrs. Sherman. "I want Lloyd to see
some of those wonderful music boxes they make here; the dancing bears, and
the musical hand-mirrors; the chairs that play when you sit down in them,
and the beer-mugs that begin a tune when you lift them up."

Lloyd's face dimpled with pleasure, and she began to ask eager questions.
"Couldn't we take one to Mom Beck, mothah? A lookin'-glass that would play
'Kingdom Comin', when she picked it up? It would surprise her so she would
think it was bewitched, and she'd shriek the way she does when a
cattapillah gets on her."

Lloyd laughed so heartily at the recollection, that an old gentleman
sitting at an opposite table smiled in sympathy. He had been watching the
child ever since she came into the dining-room, interested in every look
and gesture. He was a dignified old French soldier, tall and
broad-shouldered, with gray hair and a fierce-looking gray moustache
drooping heavily over his mouth. But the eyes under his shaggy brows were
so kind and gentle that the shyest child or the sorriest waif of a stray
dog would claim him for a friend at first glance.

The Little Colonel was so busy watching the scene from the window that she
did not see him until he had finished his breakfast and rose from the
table. As he came toward them on his way to the door, she whispered,
"Look, mothah! He has only one arm, like grandfathah. I wondah if he was a
soldiah, too. Why is he bowing to Papa Jack?"

"I met him last night in the office," explained her father, when the old
gentleman had passed out of hearing. "We got into conversation over the
dog he had with him--a magnificent St. Bernard, that had been trained as a
war dog, to go out with the ambulances to hunt for dead and wounded
soldiers. Major Pierre de Vaux is the old