reminiscences, but to-day another subject was on her mind.

"How is Billy getting along?" she asked.

"Jes' fine!" said Mrs. Wiggs; "only he comes home at night 'most
dead. I give him money to ride, but ever' day last week he et up his
nickel."

"Who--who has charge of him now?" Lucy blushed at her subterfuge.

"Mr. Bob," said Mrs. Wiggs; "he's the gentleman that took us to
supper. He's got money. Asia said he give the nigger waiter a
quarter. Billy is jes' crazy 'bout Mr. Bob; says he's goin' to be
jes' like him when he grows up. He will, too, if he sets his head to
it! Only he never kin have them big brown eyes an' white teeth Mr.
Bob's got. Why, when Mr. Bob smiles it jes' sort of breaks up his
whole face."

Lucy's eyes were fixed on the mammoth butterfly upon whose
iridescent wings Asia was putting the finishing touches, but her
thoughts were far away.

"I jes' wish you could see him!" went on Mrs. Wiggs,
enthusiastically.

"I wish I could!" said Lucy, with such fervor that Mrs. Wiggs paused
on her way to answer a knock at the outside door.

There was a scraping of feet in the passage.