This altogether unexpected question, which came so quaintly from the childish lips, made me laugh. Babiole turned from me to the pictures, rather disconcerted, and Mrs. Ellmer broke in with her sharp high voice-- 'Babiole understands pictures; she has had a thorough art education from her father, Mr. Maude.' 'Oh yes,' said I, wondering vaguely why mothers always show up so badly beside their daughters. Then I turned again to the girl. 'I didn't know how clever you were, Miss Babiole. Supposing I had two friends, one who had known this lady and loved her, and the other who was a great art collector. Which portrait would each like best?' Babiole decided without hesitation. 'The art collector would like this one, and the one who had loved her would like that,' she said, indicating each with the glance of her eyes. 'But the art collector's is the prettier face of the two,' I objected. 'Yes; but it isn't so good.' I was astonished and fascinated by the quickness of the girl's perception. 'You ought to grow into an artist,' I said, smiling. 'The pretty one was in the Academy this year, painted by a famous artist. I heard it was a wonderful portrait, and I commissioned a man to buy it for me. The other is an enlargement, by an unknown artist, from half a dozen old photographs and sketches, of the same lady five years ago.' 'And is it exactly like her--like what she was, I mean?' 'No; she was prettier, but not so--good.' I used the word 'good' because she had used it, though it was not the word I should have chosen. I wanted her to say something more, for she was still looking at the pictures in a very thoughtful way; but at that moment Mrs. Ellmer, skipping lightly along the polished floor in a way that made me tremble for her balance, thrust her head between us, and laid her pointed chin on her daughter's shoulder. 'And what are you two so deeply interested about?' she asked playfully. Babiole put her tender little cheek lovingly against her mother's thin face, and I began talking about art in a vague and ignorant manner, which incautiously showed that I disliked the interruption. Ferguson came to my rescue with the solemn announcement of dinner. From Mrs. Ellmer's rather critical attitude towards the different dishes, I gathered that she prided herself on her own cookery, and Babiole ingenuously let out that mamma had once superintended a very grand dinner of some friends of theirs--'Oh, such rich people!'--and it had been a great success. Mamma seemed a little uneasy at this indiscretion, but hastened to add that they were such dear friends of hers that when they were left in a difficulty by the sudden illness of their man-cook--a man who had been in the first families, and had come to them from Lord Stonehaven's--she had overwhelmed them by the offer of her services.