d a
characteristic but very kind act, looked round for his pupil, and then,
perceiving that she had beaten a retreat, sat down to the piano himself,
and, unasked, gave an encore for her. A solo from Dr. Linton was an
unexpected treat, especially as he was in the mood for music, and played
with a sort of rapture that carried his listeners into an ethereal world
of delicate sounds. Ingred, hidden behind a protecting barrier of
schoolfellows, could see all the sylphs dancing and the fairy pipers
piping as the crisp notes came tripping from his practised fingers. At
the end she came back as from a dream, to realize that she was not in
elf-land, but in the College Lecture Hall, and that she was sitting on a
form next to Miss Strong, who held on her knee a little red-coated,
brown-haired boy with Dr. Linton's unmistakable dark eyes.

In that instant, as the music ceased, Ingred received quite a sudden and
new impression of Miss Strong; there was a tender look on the mistress's
face, as she held her arm around the child, and she whispered something
to him that made the dark eyes dance. He slipped from her lap, and hand
in hand they went together towards the toy-stall. It was quite a pretty
little scene, one of those tiny glimpses into other people's lives that
we catch occasionally when the veil of their reserve is for a moment
held aside. Ingred looked after them meditatively.

"Shouldn't have thought the Snark capable of it," she ruminated.
"Perhaps she likes boys better than girls. Some people do."

The toy stall, though half depleted of its contents, was still the
center of attraction. Lispeth and Althea were displaying what were left
of its windmills and whirligigs to friends who bought with an eye to
Christmas presents. Miss Strong, reckless in the matter of expense,
purchased the _chef-d'euvre_ of the whole collection--a wonderful
contrivance consisting of two cardboard towers and a courtyard, across
which, by means of a tape wound round bobbins, and turned by a handle,
walked a miniature procession of wooden soldiers. Little Kenneth Linton
received it with open arms.

"Better let me wrap it up in paper," urged Lispeth. "Somebody said just
now that it's beginning to snow, and you don't want to have it spoilt
before you get it home, do you?"

"N-no," said Kenneth, relinquishing it doubtfully.

"You're a lucky boy," continued Lispeth, as she made up the parcel.
"Isn't that a Teddy Bear in your pocket? And a ball too