rsery-maid. She was a good girl, but not very
lively or quick, and she could not speak either French or English. When
she first came to take care of Laurence he only knew a very few words of
German, so you can imagine that his walks with Emma, as she was called,
were not very amusing. But after a while Laurence got on with his
German, much faster than Emma did with either French or English, which
of course was as it should be, seeing that she had come on purpose to
teach him her language. And then he and his nurse became very good
friends in a quiet way. For he was rather an unusually quiet little boy,
and he thought a great deal more than he spoke.

Still he _did_ sometimes wish he had a brother or sister near his own
age. It did not seem quite fair that he should be so alone in the
family. Hugh and Isabel were such nice friends for each other, and so
were the two still older sisters and the big brother of all, who was
called Robert. Now and then when little Laurence was trotting along the
street by Emma's side he would look with envy at other children, two and
three together, and wish that one of them "belonged" to him.

But there were others alone, even more alone than he was. This he found
out before long. At the corner of the "Avenue" where he lived, there
was a large house opening into a court-yard, like all large houses in
Paris, and just inside this court-yard Laurence often saw a little girl
not much bigger than he was, always playing about by herself. She was
the daughter of the "_concierge_," or porter, who took care of the big
house, and though she was neat and tidy she was not at all a rich little
girl. For though the house was a big one, it was not lived in by rich
people, and the _concierge_ and his wife and little girl had only two
small rooms for their home.

Laurence did not know the little girl's name, but in his own fancy he
called her "Gay." She always looked so bright and happy. And after a
while the two children began to smile at each other as if they were
friends, and sometimes Gay would call out, "Good morning, Sir. What a
nice day!" or some little speech like that, to which Laurence would
reply, "Good morning, Miss," like a little gentleman, lifting his cap as
he spoke. Of course these remarks were made in French. In English they
do sound rather odd, I must allow.

One day Laurence and Emma set off for rather a long walk. It was the day
before Isabel's birthday, and he wanted to buy a presen