carlet bloom.

Mr. Brimberly arose.

"Little girl!" he called, in voice round and sonorous, "little girl,
come you 'ere and come immediate!"

The child started, turned, and after a moment's hesitation hobbled
forward, her little face as white as her pinafore. At the foot of the
broad steps leading up to the piazza she paused, looking up at him with
great, pleading eyes.

Mr. Brimberly beckoned with portentous finger.

"Little girl, come 'ere!" he repeated. "Come up 'ere and come immediate!"

The small crutch tapped laboriously up the steps, and she stood before
Mr. Brimberly's imposing figure mute, breathless, and trembling a
little.

"Little girl," he demanded, threatening of whisker, "'oo are you
and--what?"

"Please, I'm Hazel."

"Oh, indeed," nodded Mr. Brimberly, pulling at his waistcoat. "'Azel
'oo, 'Azel what--and say 'sir' next time, if _you_ please."

"Hazel Bowker, sir," and she dropped him a little curtsey, spoiled
somewhat by agitation and her crutch.

"Bowker--Bowker?" mused Mr. Brimberly. "I've 'eard the name--I don't
like the name, but I've 'eard it."

"My daddy works here, sir," said Hazel timidly.

"Bowker--Bowker!" repeated Mr. Brimberly. "Ah, to be sure--one of the
hunder gardeners as I put on three or four weeks ago."

"Yes, please, sir."

"Little girl, what are you a-doin' in that garden? Why are you wandering
in the vicinity of this mansion?"

"Please, I'm looking for Hermy."

"'Ermy?" repeated Mr. Brimberly, "'Ermy? Wot kind of creater may that
be? Is it a dog? Is it a cat? Wot is it?"

"It's only my Princess Nobody, sir!"

"Oh, a friend of yours--ha! Persons of that class do not pervade these
regions! And wot do I be'old grasped in your 'and?"

Hazel looked down at the rose she held and trembled anew.

"Little girl--wot is it?" demanded the inexorable voice.

"A rose, sir."

"Was it--your rose?"

"N-no, sir."

"Don't you know as it's a wicked hact to take what ain't yours? Don't
you know as it's thieving and robbery, and that thieving and robbery
leads to prison bars and shackle-chains?"

"Oh, sir, I--I didn't mean--" the little voice was choked with sobs.

"Well, let this be a warning to you to thieve no more, or next time I
shall 'ave to become angry. Now--go 'ence!"

Dropping the rose the child turned and hobbled away as fast as her
crutch would allow, and Mr. Brimberly, having watched her out of sight,
emptied his glass and took up his cigar, but, finding