That depends upon what the time will be. Mr. Carter will call at noon,
and will let you know."

We bowed, and were gone. In an instant more she begged my pardon, almost
with tears; but I told her that if she also had been a "Child of the
Public," she could not more fitly have spoken to one of her father's
officers. I begged her to use me as her protector, and not to apologize
again. Then we laid out the plans which we followed out that day.

The officer's manner had reassured her, and I succeeded in persuading
her that it was certain we should have the trunk at noon. How much
better to wait, at least so far, before she entered on any of the
enterprises of which she talked so coolly, as of offering herself as a
nursery-girl, or as a milliner, to whoever would employ her, if only she
could thus secure an honest home till money or till aunt were found.
Once persuaded that we were safe from this Quixotism, I told her that we
must go on, as we did on the canal, and first we must take our
constitutional walk for two hours.

"At least," she said, "our good papa, the Public, gives us wonderful
sights to see, and good walking to our feet, as a better Father has
given us this heavenly sky and this bracing air."

And with those words the last heaviness of despondency left her face for
that day. And we plunged into the delicious adventure of exploring a new
city, staring into windows as only strangers can, revelling in
print-shops as only they do, really seeing the fine buildings as
residents always forget to do, and laying up, in short, with those
streets, nearly all the associations which to this day we have with
them.

Two hours of this tired us with walking, of course. I do not know what
she meant to do next; but at ten I said, "Time for French, Miss Jones."
"_Ah oui_" said she, "_mais ou_?" and I had calculated my distances, and
led her at once into Lafayette Place; and, in a moment, pushed open the
door of the Astor Library, led her up the main stairway, and said,
"This is what the Public provides for his children when they have to
study."

"This is the Astor," said she, delighted. "And we are all right, as you
say, here?" Then she saw that our entrance excited no surprise among the
few readers, men and women, who were beginning to assemble.

We took our seats at an unoccupied table, and began to revel in the
luxuries for which we had only to ask that we might enjoy. I had a
little memorandum of books which I had been