ioned themselves in positions of vantage behind the curtains, and
looked out eagerly for the advent of Mrs Wallace. Bridgie could not
divest herself of a suspicion that the promise might have been given as
the easiest way out of a difficulty, but before the half-hour struck a
well-appointed carriage turned the corner of the road, the coachman
glanced at the number on the door, and drew up his horses, when a fluffy
head peered out of the window, and Pixie cried excitedly--

"That's the thin one! That's Viva! I expect she howled, and they could
not keep her away. That's Mrs Wallace! Isn't it an elegant hat?"

Bridgie peeped and grew quite pink with excitement, for, truth to tell,
mother and daughter made a charming picture as they came up the little
path. Mrs Wallace looked almost like a girl herself in her becoming
hat and veil, while the golden-haired child wore a white coat and cap
edged with fluffy swan's-down. Sylvia retreated to the dining-room.

Pixie ran to meet the visitors at the door, and the voice that
exclaimed, "Bon jour, Mamzelle Paddy!" was in itself an augury of
friendship. The next moment they were in the drawing-room, and Mrs
Wallace was smilingly explaining the title.

"I am sure you must have been very much surprised to hear of yesterday's
interview, Miss O'Shaughnessy! `mamzelle Paddy,' as my husband has named
your small sister, has made quite a conquest of my little girls, and
Viva refused to be left behind when she heard where I was going. I hope
you were not very anxious about her absence yesterday?"

"Indeed I was not, for I took it for granted she was with some friends
near by. Please sit down, and get warm. 'Twas a ridiculous idea of the
child's to suppose for one moment that she could fulfil your
requirements; but she's the baby of the family, and has never been
thwarted, and such a kind little creature that she must try to help if
there is any difficulty. It is good of you to take the trouble to come
and explain, but indeed we have decided already that it is quite, quite
impossible!"

Mrs Wallace gave a start of consternation, and the smile faded from her
lips. She looked first at Bridgie, then across the room to where Viva
stood on tiptoe dragging at Pixie's sleeve, and reiterating, "Mamzelle!
Mamzelle Paddy, will you come again to my nursery? Will you tell me
more stories about those peoples in the lamp-posts?"

"Oh, don't say it is impossible!" she said softly. "I want