t of fine point de Venise. His shoes were of white leather
with red heels, and his stockings of the finest white silk. He had
felt ashamed of his plain claret cloth, which had seemed so fine at
first, when taken to the houses of the fine hooped and powdered
ladies; and Lord Claud had had him fitted with this suit at his own
costumiers, bidding Tom regard it as a small token of friendship
and gratitude.

Tom had delighted in his fine appearance as he was taken the round
of the fashionable houses; but now, as he neared his former
lodgings, he found himself wishing he had put on the more sober
suit. He felt that Master Cale's eyes would rest upon him with a
grave disapproval, and he had not yet grown indifferent to the
opinion of the man who had so befriended him.

The perruquier's shop was close shut up, the sign swinging idly
overhead. But the door in the rear stood ajar, and Tom softly
pushed it open and entered.

He paused on the threshold, surprised by an unfamiliar sound--the
sound of a fresh young voice singing a gay little snatch of song in
some upper chamber. He mounted the stairs softly, the sound of the
voice growing clearer, and at last he knew that the singer must be
in the upper parlour, where, when the day's work was all finished,
the perruquier and any lodger he might chance to have spent the
evening hours if they did not go abroad.

This parlour was free to Tom, who, however, had not so far troubled
it much with his presence; but now he pushed open the door with
pardonable curiosity, and beheld at once the singer of the quaint
little refrain.

A slim young maiden was standing at the window, looking down into
the street below. She wore the simple dress of the citizen class, a
rather full skirt of cloth--of a finer texture perhaps than some,
and of a dark crimson colour which well became her--and the laced
bodice and full sleeves of the day. Round her throat she had a fine
white muslin kerchief edged with lace, and her apron was of the
same. She had plainly been wearing a hood of cloth like her dress,
but this was now lying on the table; and her pretty dark brown
hair, rather ruffled, was bound by nothing save a snood of crimson
riband. Her profile was turned to Tom, and he saw a sweet, little,
merry face, with a nose a trifle tip-tilted, and a cheek the colour
of a damask rose.

It seemed as though the opening of the door had been heard, for the
maid exclaimed in a merry voice:

"O father dear, I