t smoking-jacket; the top of his bald head was protected by
a Scotch cap, and his fringe of hair, white like his pointed beard, was
parted behind and brushed into a tuft over each ear, the ribbon ends of
his cap hanging down between in the jauntiest way. It was really
difficult to decide whether the back or front view of him was most
cheerful.

"Will it take long?" Frances asked, with dignity, although a certain
dimple refused to be repressed.

"Well, at least half an hour, if I am not interrupted; but as my clerk
is out, I may have to stop to wait on a customer. Perhaps if you have
other shopping to do you might call for them on your way home." If there
was a twinkle in the eye of the Spectacle Man, nobody saw it except the
gray cat who sat near by on the directory.

"Thank you, I think I'd better wait," replied Frances, politely, much
pleased to have it supposed she was out shopping.

At this the optician hastened to give her a chair at the window,
motioning her to it with a wave of the hand and a funny little bow; then
he trotted into the next room and returned with a _St. Nicholas_, which
he presented with another bow, and retired to his table in the corner.
As he set to work he hummed his tune, glancing now and then over his
shoulder in the direction of his small customer.

Perched on the high-backed chair, in her scarlet coat and cap, her hands
clasped over the book, her bright eyes fixed on the busy street, it was
as if a stray red bird had fluttered in, bringing a touch of color to
the gray-tinted room. From her waving brown locks to the tips of her
toes she was a dainty little maid, and carried herself with the air of a
person of some importance.

If the Spectacle Man was interested in Frances, she was no less
interested in him; neither the street nor the magazine attracted her
half so much as the queer shop and its proprietor. It had once been the
front parlor of the old dwelling which, with its veranda and grass-plat,
still held its own in the midst of the tall business houses that closed
it in on either side. Here were the show-cases, queer instruments, and
cabalistic looking charts for trying the sight; over the high mantel
hung a large clock, and in the grate below a coal fire nickered and
purred in a lazy fashion; and through the half-open folding doors
Francis had a glimpse into what seemed to be a study or library.

At least a dozen questions were on the tip of her tongue, but didn't get
any fur