had gathered it from the surface of the marsh.

It was on the day following this disappointment that, while walking
to and fro the length of his turfed garden, between three and four in
the afternoon (for his habits were methodical), he heard a child's
voice lifted on the far side of the party hedge:

"Dad!"

"Eh? What is it?" answered the voice of Captain Barker, from his new
tulip-bed, across the garden.

"What thing is this?"

"A nymph." Captain Runacles guessed by this that the four-year-old's
question had reference to one of the figure-heads disposed along the
hedge.

"What is a nymph?"

"A sort of girl."

"I don't like this sort of girl. She's got no legs."

"Come over here and look at this tulip."

"There's a much better sort of girl next door," Tristram continued,
unheeding.

"What do you know about her?" sharply inquired his guardian.

"Oh, I see her often at the top window, and sometimes out walking.
Nurse says we're not to speak, so we put out our tongues at each
other."

"Tristram, come over here and look--"

"She's got funny curls, and puts her doll to bed in the window-seat
every night. I like that sort of girl. When I grow up," the young
bashaw proceeded, "I shall have lots of that sort of girl all over
the garden, instead of these wooden things."

Captain Barker treated this Oriental day-dream with silence.

"Dad--why am I worth more than all the girls in the world?"

"Who said you were?"

"Nurse. She says you think so. She says the big man next door would
give his eyes to have a boy like me; but he can't make nothing of a
girl, and don't try. Narcissus--"

"Hallo!" replied the heavy voice of Mr. Swiggs.

"Have you got a boy?"

"No, sir: 'nmarried."

"What did you give your eye for, then?"

"Losh!" ejaculated Narcissus, as Captain Barker pounced on the
youngster and haled him off to the tulip-bed. The interrogatory was
stayed for a while.

Captain Runacles, who had caught every word, strode half a dozen
times up and down his grass-plot: then summoned Simeon.

"Tell nurse to send Miss Sophia down to me."

Five minutes later a small child of seven appeared in the doorway,
and, after hesitating there for a moment, stepped timidly across the
turf. Her figure and movements were ungainly and her complexion
appeared unnaturally sallow against a dark grey frock. A wet brush,
applied two minutes before with inconsiderate zeal, had taken all the
curl out of her dar