face smiling down on her, then shook her head with great
decision.

"Not a little walk? I will tell you such pretty stories, all
about fairies, and moonlight, and little boys and girls, and
dragons," said Horace, drawing largely on his imagination, in
his desire to offer a sufficient inducement.

"No," said Madelon, "I can't come; I am marking for papa."

"What is it?" said M. Linders, who understood very little
English; "what does this gentleman want, _mon enfant?_"

"I was asking your little girl if she would take a walk with
me in the garden," says Horace, getting rather red, and in his
bad French.

"Monsieur is too good," answers M. Linders, making a grand
bow, whilst his companion, having finished dealing, sat
puffing away at his cigar, and drumming impatiently with his
fingers on the table; "but the hour is rather late; what do
you say, Madelon? Will you go with Monsieur?"

"No, papa," says the child, "I am marking for you; I don't
want to go away."

"You see how it is, Monsieur," said M. Linders, turning to
Graham with a smile and shrug. "This little one thinks herself
of so much importance, that she will not leave me."