e any more names for kings when those lived?" the youngest
Kenway asked seriously.

"Why, what makes you ask that?" asked the smiling lady.

"Maybe there weren't enough to go 'round," continued the puzzled Dot.
"There are so many of 'em of one name----Williams, and Georges, and
Edwardses. Don't English people have any more names to give to their
sov-runs?"

"Sov-er-eigns," whispered Tess, sharply.

"That's what I mean," said the placid Dot. "The lady knows what I mean."

"Of course I do, dear," agreed the woman in the gray cloak. "But I
expect the mothers of kings, like the mothers of other little boys, like
to name their sons after their fathers.

"Now, children, I must go," she added briskly, getting up off the bench
and handing Tess the written paper. "Good-bye. I hope I shall meet you
both again very soon. Let me kiss you, Tess--and you, Dorothy Kenway. It
has done me good to know you."

She kissed both children quickly, and then set off along the Parade
Ground walk. Tess and Dot bade her good-bye shrilly, turning themselves
toward the old Corner House.

"Oh, Dot!" exclaimed Tess, suddenly.

"What's the matter now?" asked Dot.

"We never asked the lady her name--or who she was."

"We-ell----would that be perlite?" asked Dot, doubtfully.

"Yes. She asked our names. We don't know anything about her--and I _do_
think she is so nice!"

"So do I," agreed Dot. "And that gray cloak----"

"With the pretty little bonnet and ruche," added Tess.

"She isn't the Salvation Army," said Dot, remembering that that order
was uniformed from seeing them on the streets of Bloomingsburg, where
the Kenways had lived before they had fallen heir to Uncle Peter
Stower's estate.

"Of course not!" Tess cried. "And she don't look like one o' those
deaconesses that came to see Ethel Mumford's mother when she was
sick--do you remember?"

"Of course I remember--everything!" said the positive Dot. "Wasn't I a
great, big girl when we came to Milton to live?"

"Why--why," stammered her sister, not wishing to displease Dot, but
bound to be honest. "You aren't a very big girl, even now, Dot Kenway."

"Humph!" exclaimed Dot, quite vexed. "I wear bigger shoes and stockings,
and Ruth is having Miss Ann Titus let down the hems of all my old
dresses a full inch--so now!"

"I expect you _have_ grown some, Dot," admitted Tess, reflectively. "But
you aren't big enough even now to brag about."

The youngest Kenway might have been dee