t, and you know one can't see very much
from back windows, especially when one lives on the top floor."

"I should not imagine the view could have been very interesting," said
Lord Carresford, smiling; "but how did it happen that you so seldom went
out?"

"Why, you see, I was too heavy to carry, and of course we couldn't
afford to have a carriage. I did go in a carriage once, though; I saw
Central Park." And Jack launched forth into a description of Winifred's
invitation, and his birthday treat. Lord Carresford began to look really
interested.

"And how did you amuse yourself all day in the house?" he inquired,
rather curiously, when Jack had finished his story.

"Oh, I got on very well. I read a good deal, and drew pictures, and then
Betty was always there, and mother came home in the afternoons. You
never heard my mother play on the piano, did you?"

"No, I have never had the pleasure of meeting your mother."

"I think she plays better than any one else in the world," said Jack
simply. "She used to play for me every evening, because she knew I loved
it, though sometimes she was dreadfully tired. Oh, I had very good
times, though of course it is much nicer here."

"Did you say you drew pictures?" Lord Carresford asked.

"Yes, I like to draw better than almost anything else, but I don't
suppose I do it at all right. I've been making a picture this
afternoon."

"May I look at it? I am very much interested in pictures."

Jack produced a folded paper from his pocket, which he handed to Lord
Carresford.

"I was going to take it home to mother," he explained; "she likes to
keep all my pictures."

Lord Carresford unfolded the paper, and glanced, at first rather
carelessly, at the rough little sketch. Then suddenly his expression
changed, and when he again turned to the little boy there was a new
interest in his manner.

[Illustration: "It is very good," said Lord Carresford.--_Page 189_.]

"Who taught you to draw?" he asked rather abruptly.

"No one," said Jack; "I just did it. My father was an artist, and mother
thinks that may be the reason why I can do it. Please, sir, would you
mind telling me if it's very bad?"

"It is very good," said Lord Carresford heartily; "remarkably good for a
boy of your age. You will be an artist when you grow up, or I am much
mistaken."

Jack's face was radiant.

"Do you really think so?" he asked breathlessly. "Oh, I'm so glad. I
should like so very, very much to be an