young lady who has just gone down----?" he said.

"Miss Browne, sir."

"Er--is that so--really?" He lost himself, apparently; for the moment
had nothing more to say; until, with a happy inspiration, "and--your
name?" he asked.

"I'm Miss Dawson, sir. Miss Nellie Dawson."

"Really? Pleased to have made your acquaintance. Er--I've--er--brought
you some violets, Miss Nellie Dawson," he said.

He appeared again the next morning, and had lunch at the tea-shop; the
only man among a bevy of women lunching off scones and tea. He was shy
of his isolated position, perhaps, for he held the illustrated paper he
took up rather persistently before his face. At that hour a servant
stood behind the screen and washed the china; both the girls waited.
Above the top of his paper and round its edges he watched the more
elegant of the two moving with noiseless tread among the tables,
standing with bent head in the attitude of dignified attentiveness to
receive orders, carrying her light burden of brown tea tray and Satsuma
china. It was Lucilla he watched, but it was Miss Dawson who waited on
him.

He ordered two poached eggs--the most substantial item on the menu
card. He had to wait a long while for them, and when they were eaten,
and he had given himself time to read his _Punch_ two or three times
through, he apparently discovered himself to be still hungry, for he
ordered two more. By the time these were consumed, and he had
conscientiously looked through _The Ladies' Field_, with which Miss
Dawson had thoughtfully supplied him, the room began to empty.

A couple of ladies, evidently from the country, strayed in. One, in a
low and secret voice demanded stout, which could not be supplied.
Lucilla, with her head at a charming incline, suggested as a substitute
tea, coffee, or chocolate; finally took the order for chocolate,
supplied it; then, there being no one else to wait on, sat down by the
fire, drew a strip of knitting from her apron pocket, began to work on
it.

Captain Finch, rising from his table, pulled down his waistcoat, picked
up his hat and stick, crossed the room, and placed himself before her.
In the hand held in the fall of his back he carried a book.

"I--er--will you allow me--to--pay?" he asked. "Four
eggs--er--coffee--er."

Lucilla, without raising her eyes from the brown silk she was knitting
into a narrow strip, slightly waved a hand in the direction of Miss
Dawson. "The other young lady," she said.