and a good deal of beautiful black hair thrown
back from his forehead. His hands, as Lily
soon knew, were small and thin; you could
almost see through them. His clothes seemed
to fit him very loosely, and when he spoke he
lisped.

He was the last of the gentlemen who made
friends with Lily, but she liked him the best.
He drew her towards him while the men were
bestowing compliments on the handsome lady,
and, parting her curls, printed a very soft kiss on
her forehead. Not one of the other gentlemen
had done that. Had they touched her, Lily
would have blushed, and her little temper would
have risen, and she would have cried " Don't."
But she did not reject the thin pale gentleman.

"And so your mamma has brought you to
dine with us, little one," he said, looking in her
clear eyes.

The handsome lady was her mamma. This
was news to Lily. She did not reply directly
to his question, but began to chatter on what a
pretty place it was, and how beautiful all that
glass looked on the table.

"Ay, ay," returned the pale tall gentleman,
nodding his head, " there are plenty of pretty
things here, and prettier things to put into them.
Are you fond of pretty things?"

"Oh! I love them so dearly," the child cried,
joining her small palms together. And then
she began to tell him about the spider on the
wall, and a squirrel that belonged to Miss Furblow,
and Miss Dallwallah's golden earrings,
and a great doll with a blue satin frock and
pink shoes and a sash, which Miss Babby had
once shown her, and which had belonged to
Miss Kneecrops, the poor girl who died oefore
Lily came to school.

"You are a strange child," the tall gentleman
said. " What's your name?"

"Lily Floris."

"The rose by any other name would smell as
sweet. And how old are you, dear?"

"Nearly eight," quoth Lily; "and what's
your name, sir?"

"Tom Jones," replied the gentleman.

"No it isn't," pursued Lily, shaking her
head; "it's something much prettier than that.
Do tell me, or I won't talk to you any more."

"Well," replied the gentleman, smiling, " my
name's Long."

"Long what?"

"You little inquisitor! My Christian name
is William, and people call me Sir William
Long. At school, they used to nickname me
Long Billy."

"And how old are you? I should so like to
know ?"

"I am twenty-eight."

"Then you're just twenty years older than I
am. How nice! Are you married?"

"No," gravely answered the tall gentleman
who said his name was Sir William Long. "I
am Quite Alone."

"And so am I," quoth Lily, laughing. "All
the girls told me so. I have always been
Quite Alone till to-day. May I sit with you at
dinner ?"

Sir William was about, to give a smiling affirmativo
to the naïve question, when the countess
— the handsome lady— who had been watching
this little by-play from afar off, addressed the
tall gentleman by the name of Good-for-nothing,
and asked him how long he intended to keep
them waiting?

"I have been flirting with your little girl,"
he said, as he placed the child beside him.

Lily did not know anything about flirting;
but she knew the tall gentleman had been very
kind to her, and she liked very much to sit near
him.

"Flirting!" exclaimed the countess, scornfully.
"You begin early."

"You had better teach the little one her
A B C: she scarcely knows it."

"She'll get on fast enough if you take her
away from school and teach her yourself," the
old gentleman, who was a marquis, remarked,
with a bow.

"When I want her to learn wickedness she
shall come to you," retorted the lady. "Please
to give me some souclié, and, Sir William, I
entreat you not to let that unhappy child eat
too much."

The lady brightened up more and more after
each course, and when the sparkling wines were
passed about, was quite radiant.

"I like this Greenwich," she said, holding
a brimming glass of Moselle to the light; " it
does me good. It makes me breathe. Give
me Greenwich and Richmond, and you may sink
the rest of your sad England to the bottom of
your muddy Thames. How good these little
fishes are! How crisp they eat! Good-for-nothings,
I drink to you." The lady was enjoying
herself.

The dinner was a very grand one; but, with
all its grandeur, piscine culinary art has
progressed since those days, and by the side of a
Greenwich banquet as we now understand it, the
repast might have seemed mean. Still, there
was an almost inconceivable variety of fish.
Still, rare wines came up with every course.
The glass and damask would have appeared
paltry in comparison with the sumptuosities of
crystal and napery which are now displayed
at such feasts, but it was a dinner fit for a king,
and one Lily settled in her own mind of the
precise description partaken of every day by the
Caliph Haroun Alraschid. She fancied Giaffar
calling for more salmon cutlets, and eating a
devilled bait with his fingers. And then, the
bait themselves became the fish that turned in
the pan and reproached the cook in the Fisherman
and the Geni. And the pasty-faced waiters
black slaves with jewelled collars and armlets,
and the rare wines were sherbet cooled
with snow, and the child ate her dinner in a
dream.

Sir William Long was faithful to his trust,
and took the most sedulous care of her. He
gave her some nice fried sole, and warned off
the waiters who would have approached her