It was a Sunday morning--nearly a year after my first and last sight of King Roy. He was nearly two years old at the time, and his little sister Faith was laboriously and with infinite care dressing him to accompany her for a walk. Warden was out, and the two children had the pleasant and cheerful sitting-room to themselves. The moments of Warden's absence were the moments of Faith's sunshine. Her object now was to get out before he returned, and take Roy with her. She thought her father a very good and wonderful man; but it was quite impossible for her to feel absolutely at home with him. She had a keen perception of his real indifference to her; she was not surprised, for Faith thought very humbly of herself. But his absence took away a sense of restraint which she could not shake off, and now the glorious sunshine of this autumn morning seemed to beckon her out, to beckon and lure her into the fulness of its own beautiful life. No summer's day that ever came was too hot for little Faith; she would get into the full power of the sun herself, and Roy should have the shelter of the trees. Yes, it was Sunday morning; there was nothing whatever to keep them at home; they would go into Regent's Park, and sit under the trees, and be very, very happy. "'Tis _such_ a lovely day, Roy," she said to her little brother. Roy, seated on the floor, was rebelling at his shoes and stockings being put on, and Faith had to use all her powers of imagination in describing the outside world, to induce him to submit to the process. At last, however, he was ready, and taking his hand, they went down together into the street. Roy was such a lovely child that people turned to look at him as he trotted along. Those who often saw him have told me that he had by no means perfect features, but the brightness and sweetness of the little face were simply indescribable. He babbled as much as of old; but his babbling was now intelligible to other creatures besides the flies. Faith looked nearly as happy as he did as they walked together. In process of time, as fast as the little legs would permit they arrived at Regent's Park, and Faith, choosing a sheltering tree, placed her little brother in a shady corner, and came close to his side. Roy picked bits of grass, which he flung into Faith's lap. Faith laughed and caressed him. They were both in a most blissful child-world, and thought of no darker days at hand. "Please, I _should_ like to kiss the baby," said a voice suddenly quite close to Faith's ear. It was a thin, high-pitched voice, and raising her head at the sound, Faith saw a very white-faced, very ragged girl, a little older than herself, standing near. "I'm so afraid as you mayn't be clean enough," she answered anxiously. "Oh, but I'll run to mother, and she'll wash my lips. Just wait, and I'll be back in a jiffy."