to the same one as my Aunt Harriet and my uncle," Alexina
informed him. "I saw you there, and your name is William. I heard the
lady calling you that, coming out."

The gate which had swung in swung out again, bringing the boy nearer
this outspoken little girl, whose unconsciousness was putting him more
at his ease. He had seen her at church, too, but he could not have
told her so.

"What's the rest of your name--William what?"

Such a question makes a shy person very miserable, but the interest
was pleasing.

"William Leroy," said the boy tersely. Then, as if in amend for the
abruptness, he added: "Sometimes they call it the other way, King
William, you know."

"Who do?"

"Father and mother."

"You mean when you're pretending?"

The gate stopped in its jerkings. There had been enough about the
name. He was an imperious youngster. "No, I don't," he said; "it's
William Leroy backward."

The little girl looked mystified, but evidently thought best to change
a subject about which the person concerned seemed testy. "I saw one
once," she said sociably; "a real one. He was in a carriage, with
horses and soldiers, and a star on his coat."

"One what?" demanded the boy.

"A king, a real one, you know."

Now, this princeling on the gate knew when his own sex were guying and
he knew the remedy. He did not know this little girl, but he would not
have thought it of her.

"A real--what?" he demanded.

"A real king, but they don't say king; they say 'l'empereur.'"

William looked stern. "I don't know what you mean," he returned;
"where did you see any king?"

The grave eyes were not one bit abashed. "In Paris, where we lived,"
said the little girl. "There was a boy named Tommy watching at the
hotel window, too, and he said, 'Vive le roi,' and Marie, my bonne,
she said, 'Sh--h: l'empereur!'"

The effect of this was unexpected, for the boy, descending from the
gate, turned a keenly irradiated countenance upon her. "Do you mean
Paris, my father's Paris, Paris in France?"

"Why," said the little girl, regarding him with some surprise, "yes."
For he was taking her by the hand in a masterful fashion.

"Come in," he commanded. "I want you to tell father; that's father
there."

But Alexina, friendly soul, went willingly enough with him through the
gate and up the wide pavement between bordering beds of unflourishing
perennials.

"Listen, father," William Leroy was calling to the gentleman at the
foot of the ste