What was this crowd? Some dozen or so of people were standing around a small girl, who, accompanied by a man, was playing a violin, and playing it very well, too. But it was not the music that attracted Sheila to the child, but partly that there was a look about the timid, pretty face and modest and honest eyes that reminded her of little Ailasa, and partly because, just at this moment, her heart seemed to be strangely sensitive and sympathetic. She took no thought of the people looking on. She went forward to the edge of the pavement, and found that the small girl and her companion were about to go away. Sheila stopped the man. “Will you let your little girl come with me into this shop?” It was a confectioner’s shop. “We were going home to dinner,” said the man, while the small girl looked up with wondering eyes. “Will you let her have dinner with me, and you will come back in a half an hour?” The man looked at the little girl; he seemed to be really fond of her, and saw that she was very willing to go. Sheila took her hand and led her into the confectioner’s shop, putting her violin on one of the small marble tables while they sat down at another. She was probably not aware that two or three idlers had followed them, and were staring with might and main in at the door of the shop. What could this child have thought of the beautiful and yet sad-eyed lady who was so kind to her, who got her all sorts of things with her own hands and asked her all manner of questions in a low, gentle and sweet voice? There was not much in Sheila’s appearance to provoke fear or awe. The little girl, shy at first, got to be a little more frank, and told her hostess when she rose in the morning, how she practised, the number of hours they were out during the day, and many of the small incidents of her daily life. She had been photographed, too, and her photograph was sold in one of the shops. She was very well content; she liked playing, the people were kind to her, and she did not often get tired. “Then I shall see you often if I stay in Brighton?” said Sheila. “We go out every day when it does not rain very hard.” “Perhaps some wet day you will come and see me, and you will have some tea with me; would you like that?” “Yes, very much,” said the small musician, looking up frankly. Just at this moment, the half hour having fully expired, the man appeared at the door. “Don’t hurry,” said Sheila to the little girl; “sit still and drink out the lemonade, then I will give you some little parcels which you must put in your pocket.” She was about to rise to go to the counter when she suddenly met the eyes of her husband, who was calmly staring at her. He had come out, after their ride, with Mrs. Lorraine to have a stroll up and down the pavements, and had, in looking in at the various shops, caught sight of Sheila quietly having luncheon with this girl whom she had picked up in the streets.