"But where did you come from?" I asked.

"From Alexandretta."

"What were you doing there?"

"I used to sit in a tree and look over the wall--"

"What wall?"

"The wall of my house-my father's house. He was not my father,
but he married my mother. I am English." She announced the fact
with a little air of finality.

"Indeed?" said I.

"Yes. Father, mother--both English. He was Vice-Consul. He
died before I was born. Then his friend Hamdi Effendi took my
mother and married her. You see?"

I confessed I did not. "Where does Harry come in?" I inquired.

She looked puzzled. "Come in?" she echoed.

I perceived her knowledge of the English vernacular was limited.
I turned my question differently.

"Oh," she said with more animation. "He used to pass by the
wall, and I talked to him when there was no one looking. He was