there were tears in them. "Do they talk that way here?" she asked.

"You will see. I shall leave you alone."

"Don't leave me alone," said Bessie Alden. "Take me away."

"No; I want to see what you make of it," her sister continued.

"I don't understand."

"You will understand after Lord Lambeth has come," said Mrs. Westgate
with a little laugh.

The two ladies had arranged that on this afternoon Willie
Woodley should go with them to Hyde Park, where Bessie Alden
expected to derive much entertainment from sitting on a little
green chair, under the great trees, beside Rotten Row.
The want of a suitable escort had hitherto rendered this
pleasure inaccessible; but no escort now, for such an expedition,
could have been more suitable than their devoted young countryman,
whose mission in life, it might almost be said, was to find
chairs for ladies, and who appeared on the stroke of half-past
five with a white camellia in his buttonhole.

"I have written to Lord Lambeth, my dear," said Mrs. Westgate to her sister,
on coming into the room where Bessie Alden, drawing on her long gray gloves,
was entertaining their visitor.

Bessie said nothing, but Willie Woodley exclaimed that his lordship
was in town; he had seen his name in the Morning Post.