k over their coffee and cigars, and only left them at the doors of
the Casino. He strolled along the terrace, moody and disconsolate,
able to think of nothing to amuse him, and, as he came to the end of
the gardens, he saw a group of French children gathered in front of the
seat on which the little girl was sitting, and, coming nearer, he heard
jeering cries of "Sale Anglaise! Sale Anglaise!"

In a flash Tinker's face shone with a very ecstasy of pure delight, and
he swooped down on the group. The child was clutching the arm of the
seat, and staring at her tormentors with parted lips and terrified
eyes. For their part, they were enjoying themselves to the full. They
had found a game which afforded them the maximum of pleasure, with the
minimum of effort; and just as Tinker swooped down, a cropped and
bullet-headed boy in blue velvet threw a handful of gravel into her
face. She threw up her hands and burst into tears; the children's
laughter rose to a shrill yell; and with extreme swiftness Tinker
caught the bullet-headed boy a ringing box on the right ear and another
on the left. The boy squealed, turned, clawing and kicking, on Tinker,
and, in ten seconds of crowded life, had learned the true significance
of those cryptic terms an upper-cut on the potato-trap, a hook on the
jaw, a rattler on the conk, and a buster on the mark. He lay down on
the path to digest the lesson, and his little friends fled, squealing,
away.

The little girl slipped off the seat and said "Thank you," between two
sobs.

Tinker's face was one bright, seraphic smile as he took off his hat,
and, with an admirable bow, said, "May I take you to your people?"

The bullet-headed boy rose to his feet and staggered away.

"Uncle's still in that big house," said the little girl, striving
bravely to check her sobs.

"That's a nuisance," said Tinker thoughtfully; "for we can't get at
him."

"I think he's forgotten all about me. He often does," said the little
girl, without any resentment; and she dusted the gravel off her frock.

"I might bolt in and remind him."

"They won't let us in--only grown-ups," said the little girl. "Uncle
tried to get them to let me in; but they wouldn't."

"They're used to letting me in," said Tinker--"and hauling me out
again," he added. "It brightens them up. You tell me what he's like."

Being a girl, the child was able to describe her uncle accurately: but
when she had done, Tinker shook his head: