nto communication with you on a matter of pressing importance.--I am, in
the name of my sister, Miss Josephine Apsley, and myself,

'Faithfully yours,
'THOMAS LLOYD APSLEY.'

'That's the letter,' said Mr. Apsley, 'and you wrote to us.'

'And what did I say?' asked Merton.

'Something about preferences, which we did not understand.'

'References, perhaps,' said Merton. 'Mr. Apsley, may I ask whether you
wrote this letter yourself?'

'No; None-so-pretty printed it on a kind of sewing machine. _She_ told
us to come and see you, so we came. I called her None-so-pretty, out of
a fairy story. She does not mind. Gran says she thinks she rather likes
it.'

'I shouldn't wonder if she did,' said Merton. 'But what is her real
name?'

'She made me promise not to tell. She was staying at the Home Farm when
we were staying at Gran's.'

'Is Gran your grandmother?'

'Yes,' replied Mr. Apsley.

Hereon Bats remarked that she was 'velly hungalee.'

'To be sure,' said Merton. 'Luncheon shall be brought at once.' He rang
the bell, and, going out, interpellated the office boy.

'Why did you laugh when my friends came to luncheon? You must learn
manners.'

'Please, sir, the kid, the young gentleman I mean, said he came on
business,' answered the boy, showing apoplectic symptoms.

'So he did; luncheon is his business. Go and bring luncheon for--five,
and see that there are chicken, cutlets, tartlets, apricots, and ginger-
beer.'

The boy departed and Merton reflected. 'A hoax, somebody's practical
joke,' he said to himself. 'I wonder who Miss None-so-pretty is.' Then
he returned, assured Batsy that luncheon was even at the doors, and
leaving her to look at _Punch_, led Mr. Apsley aside. 'Tommy,' he said
(having seen his signature), 'where do you live?'

The boy named a street on the frontiers of St. John's Wood.

'And who is your father?'

'Major Apsley, D.S.O.'

'And how did you come here?'

'In a hansom. I told the man to wait.'

'How did you get away?'

'Father took us to Lord's, with Miss Limmer, and there was a crowd, and
Bats and I slipped out; for None-so-pretty said we ought to call on you.'

'Who is Miss Limmer?'

'Our governess.'

'Have you a mother?'

The child's brown eyes filled with tears, and his cheeks flushed. 'It
was in India that she--'

'Yes, be a man, Tommy. I am looking the other way,' which Merton did for
some seconds. 'Now, Tommy, is Miss Limmer kind to you?'