emarks, came up to her, and lifting his hat politely said to
Archie;

"If you will permit me, sir, I will tell the young lady who the people
are. I know most of them."

"Oh, thank you; I shall be so glad if you will," Bessie replied. "You
see, father and I are right from Wales, and it is all quite new to us."

"Then you were never here before?" the stranger asked, looking down upon
her with an undisguised admiration, which yet had nothing impertinent in
it.

"Yes, years ago, when I was a mere child, and did not care for things.
Now I want to see everybody--lords, and earls, and dukes, and deans, and
prime ministers, and everybody. Do you know them?"

"Yes, most of them, by sight," the stranger said slowly, and taking his
stand where he could see her as well as the passers-by, he told her this
was a lord, and this was Disraeli, and this a grand lady of fashion, and
this a famous beauty, and this a duchess, and that Prince Leopold.

It was a fortunate afternoon Bessie had chosen, for everybody was one in
the early June sunshine, and she enjoyed it immensely, and said out what
she thought; that titled ladies and grand dames were very ordinary
looking people after all, and that the fat old dowager who rode in a
coach and four, with powdered footman behind, and a face as red as a
beet, was coarse as any fish-woman and that old Dorothy would have
looked better on the satin cushions than this representative of English
aristocracy.

"I wonder what you would think of the queen," the stranger said; but
before Bessie could reply, there was a sudden murmur among the crowd,
and a buzz of expectancy, and then the princess appeared in view, riding
slowly, and bowing graciously to the right and to the left.

Instantly there was a rush to the front, and Bessie half rose to go,
too; but remembering what Neil had said about not making herself an
idiot, as the Americans and country people did, she resumed her seat,
and the country people and the Americans stood in her way and all she
saw of the princess was her sloping shoulders and long, slender neck,
with the lace scarf tied high about it. It was too bad, and Bessie could
scarcely keep back her tears of disappointment, and was wishing she had
disregarded Neil's orders and been an idiot, when a handsome open
carriage came in sight, drawn by two splendid bays, and in it sat
Blanche Trevellian, with her red parasol over her head, and beside her
Neil McPherson, eagerly scanning the