nd at others by watching the little scenes and incidents which were
continually occurring at the doors of the houses on the opposite side of
the court below.

In obedience to his uncle's request, Rollo pulled one of the bellropes
which hung by the side of the fire. A minute or two afterwards
Margaret's gentle tap was heard at the door.

"Come in," said Mr. George.

Margaret opened the door and came in.

"Well, Margaret," said Mr. George, "what can you let us have for
breakfast this morning?"

"You can have whatever you like," said Margaret.

The English waiters and servant girls always say you can have whatever
you like; but it does not always prove in the end that the promise can
be realized.

"Can you let us have a fried sole?" asked Mr. George.

"Why, no, sir," said Margaret, "not Sunday morning. You see, sir, they
don't bring round the soles Sunday morning."

"Muffins, then," said Mr. George.

"Nor muffins either," replied Margaret. "We can't get any muffins Sunday
morning."

"Well," said Mr. George, "what can you get us most conveniently?"

"That's just as you like, sir," said Margaret. "You can have whatever
you like."

"Why, no," said Mr. George; "for you just said we could not have soles
or muffins."

"Well, sir," said Margaret, innocently, "that's because it is Sunday
morning, and they don't bring round soles or muffins Sunday morning."

Mr. George began to perceive by this time that his principles of logic
and those of Margaret were so entirely different from each other that
there was no possibility of bringing any discussion to a point; and he
very wisely gave up the contest, telling Margaret that she might let
them have a cup of coffee, and any thing else she pleased.

"You can have a mutton chop, sir," said Margaret, "and rolls."

"Very well," said Mr. George; "that will be just the thing."

So Margaret went down to prepare the breakfast; and Mr. George, taking
his seat on the sofa, began to turn over the leaves of his guide book,
to see if he could find out what time the service commenced in
Westminster Abbey.

"Uncle George!" said Rollo, "look here! See this strange-looking boy
coming into the court!"

"How does he look?" asked Mr. George.

"He looks very poor," said Rollo, "and miserable, and his head is as big
as a bushel basket! He is going to sing," Rollo added. "Hark!"

Mr. George listened, and heard the voice of a child, beginning to sing a
plaintive ballad, in the court