gentlemen loafers in London, who spend their whole time hanging about the
parks and public places trying to make the acquaintance of young girls.
Sit on a chair by yourself when you are tired--you can always find a
chair even in winter--and give the chairman a penny when he comes to
you."

"I haven't got a penny, Mary. But it doesn't matter; I'll not get tired."

"Then I must give you a purse and some money, and you must never go out
without it, and don't mind spending a little money now and then, and
giving away a penny when you feel inclined. Give me my writing desk and
the keys."

She opened the desk and took out a small plush purse, then some silver
and coppers to put in it, and finally a sovereign.

"The silver you can use, the sovereign you must not change, but keep it
in case you should require money when I am not with you."

With all these fresh proofs of Mary's affection to make her happy, in her
lovely new dress and hat, and the beautiful gold chain on her bosom, Fan
went out for her walk feeling as light-hearted as a linnet. It was the
last day of November, usually a dreary time in London, but never had the
world looked so bright and beautiful to Fan as on that morning; and as
she walked along with swift elastic tread she could hardly refrain from
bursting bird-like into some natural joyous melody. Passing into the
Gardens at the Queen's Road entrance, she went along the Broad Walk to
the Round Pond, and then on to the Albert Memorial, shining with gold and
brilliant colours in the sun like some fairy edifice. Running up the
steps she walked round and round the sculptured base of the monument,