ry not to be more at Bridgefield, where she
could have worked with all her heart with May Condamine. Moreover,
Lady Kirkaldy's absence from London was a great loss to her, for there
was no one who was so kind or so available in taking her into society;
and Nuttie, though mistress of her father's house, was not yet
twenty-two, and strongly felt that she must keep within careful bounds,
and not attempt to be her own chaperon.

But the very sight of her old friend, and the knowledge that he was in
the neighbourhood, filled her heart with gladness, and seemed like a
compensation for everything. Mr. Egremont was in a gracious mood, and
readily consented to see Mr. Dutton--the friend who had been so
pleasant and helpful at Paris--and Nuttie gave her private instructions
to the footman to insure his admittance.

His card was brought in just as the father and daughter were finishing
luncheon, and he was received in Mr. Egremont's sitting-room, where the
first civilities had hardly passed before the door was opened, and in
trotted the golden-haired boy, so beautiful a child that it would have
been impossible not to look at him with delight, even for those to whom
his dark eyes and sweet smile did not recall those that had once been
so dear.

Mr. Egremont's voice took a fresh tone: 'Ah! here he comes, the old
fellow'--and he held out his hands; but the boy was intent on his own
purpose.

'Where's black doggie?' he asked in a silver-bell of a little voice,
but lisping a good deal; 'Wyn got penny for him.'

'Wynnie must be a good boy. Kiss papa first, and Mr. Dutton,'
remonstrated the sister; and Alwyn obeyed so far as to submit to his
father's embrace, and then raising those velvety eyes to the visitor's
face, he repeated: 'Where black doggie? Wyn want to see him buy bun.'

'There! your fame has preceded you,' said Mr. Egremont, 'or rather your
dog's.'

'You shall see him,' said Mr. Dutton, taking the pretty boy almost
reverently on his knee, 'but he is at home now. I could not leave him
out on the street, and I did not know if I might bring him in.'

'Oh, Mr. Dutton! as if Monsieur would not be welcome,' cried the Nuttie
of old times. 'I only wish I had stipulated for him, dear old fellow.'

'Wyn want to see him,' reiterated the child.

'May I take him to see the performance?' said Mr. Dutton. 'I live only
at the corner of Berkshire Road, and there's a dairy just opposite
where Monsieur has been allowed to keep