"Pigeon pie postponed," said Mr. Parlin to the man at the back of
Dotty's chair; "turkey with oysters for me."

The polite waiter smiled so broadly that he showed two long rows of
white teeth. It could not be Dotty who amused him. Her conduct was all
that is prim and proper. She sat beside her papa as motionless as a
waxen baby, her eyes rolling right and left, as if they were jerked by a
secret wire. It certainly could not have been Dotty. Then what was it
the man saw which was funny?

"Only one pigeon pie in the house, sir," said he, trying to look very
solemn, "and if the young lady will be pleased to wait, I'll bring it
to her in a few minutes. No such dish on any of the other bills of fare.
A rarity for this special day, sir. Anything else, miss, while you
wait?"

Mr. Parlin looked rather surprised. There had been no good reason given
for not bringing the pie at once; however, he merely asked Dotty to
choose again; and this time she chose "tomato steak," at a venture.

There were two gentlemen at the opposite side of the table, and one of
them watched Dotty with interest.

"Her mother has taken great pains with her," he thought; "she handles
her knife and fork very well. Where have I seen that child before?"

While he was still calling to mind the faces of various little girls of
his acquaintance, and trying to remember which face belonged to Dotty,
the waiter arrived with the "pigeon pie postponed." He had chosen the
time when most of the people had finished their first course, and the