med with swan's down, and her red silk hood had an edge
of the same. True, some ultra-fashionables had come out in spring
attire, but it was rather cool so early in the season. Hanny looked
very pretty in her winter hood. And as they drove down the street the
same girls were standing on a stoop; one was evidently going away from
her friend. The one who laughed lived there then. But neither of them
would have guessed it was the "queer" girl, and they almost envied her.

"I've never been down to this corner," said Hanny. "And the streets run
together."

"Yes, First Street ends and Houston goes on over to the East River."

The little girl looked about. There was a great sign on the house at the
junction--"Monticello Hotel,"--and on the edge of the sidewalk a pump,
which the little girl thought funny. They dipped the water out of the
spring at home--they had not given up saying that about the old place.
There was no need of a pump, and at grandmother's they had a well-sweep
and bucket.

Then they turned up Avenue A, where he had an errand, and soon they were
going over rough country ways where "squatters" had begun to come in
with pigs and geese. They seemed so familiar that the little girl
laughed. And if some one had told her that she would one day be driving
in a beautiful park over yonder it would have sounded like a fairy tale.
It was rough and wild now. Dobbin spun along, for the sun was hurrying
over westward.

"We have some old cousins living beyond there on Harlem Heights," he
said, "but it's too late to hunt them up. And it'll be dark by the time
we get home. There was a big battle fought here. Their brother was
killed in it. Why, they must be most eighty years old."

The little girl drew a long breath at the thought.

"We'll look them up some day." Then he stopped before a hotel where
there was a long row of horse sheds, and sprang out to tie Dobbin.

"I had better take you out. Something might happen." He carried her in
his arms clear up the steps. A lady came around the corner of the wide
porch.

"I'll leave my little girl in the waiting-room a few moments. I have
some business with Mr. Brockner," he said.

"I will take her through to my sitting-room," the lady replied, and
holding out her hand she led Hanny thither. She insisted on taking off
her hood and loosening her coat, and in a few moments she seemed well
acquainted. The lady asked her father's name and she told it.

"There are some old ladi