he least fat. You are to come in and choose a doll for her."

The couple passed into the shop, out of view and hearing of the two back-
street children.

"My, he is in a wicked temper," exclaimed Emmeline, but both she and Bert
were inclined to side with him against the absent Bertha, who was
doubtless as fat and foolish as he had described her to be.

"I want to see some dolls," said the mother of Victor to the nearest
assistant; "it's for a little girl of eleven."

"A fat little girl of eleven," added Victor by way of supplementary
information.

"Victor, if you say such rude things about your cousin, you shall go to
bed the moment we get home, without having any tea."

"This is one of the newest things we have in dolls," said the assistant,
removing a hobble-skirted figure in peach-coloured velvet from the
window; "leopard skin toque and stole, the latest fashion. You won't get
anything newer than that anywhere. It's an exclusive design."

"Look!" whispered Emmeline outside; "they've bin and took Morlvera."

There was a mingling of excitement and a certain sense of bereavement in
her mind; she would have liked to gaze at that embodiment of overdressed
depravity for just a little longer.

"I 'spect she's going away in a kerridge to marry the rich lord,"
hazarded Bert.

"She's up to no good," said Emmeline vaguely.

Inside the shop the purchase of the doll had been decided on.

"It's a beautiful doll, and Bertha will be delighted with it," asserted
the mother of Victor loudly.

"Oh, very well," said Victor sulkily; "you needn't have it stuck into a
box and wait an hour while it's being done up into a parcel. I'll take
it as it is, and we can go round to Manchester Square and give it to
Bertha, and get the thing done with. That will save me the trouble of
writing: 'For dear Bertha, with Victor's love,' on a bit of paper."

"Very well," said his mother, "we can go to Manchester Square on our way
home. You must wish her many happy returns of to-morrow, and give her
the doll."

"I won't let the little beast kiss me," stipulated Victor.

His mother said nothing; Victor had not been half as troublesome as she
had anticipated. When he chose he could really be dreadfully naughty.

Emmeline and Bert were just moving away from the window when Morlvera
made her exit from the shop, very carefully in Victor's arms. A look of
sinister triumph seemed to glow in her hard, inquisitorial face. As for
Victor,