The door burst open, and little Ada Wrentham bounced in, her pretty cheeks healthfully flushed, the hoop in her hand indicating how she had been engaged. ‘O dear!’ she exclaimed, drawing back when she saw that there was a stranger in the room. ‘Don’t go away—I’m a friend of yours,’ said Tuppit quickly.—‘Don’t you remember me? I saw you watching me when I was performing on the green in the summer-time, and you were with your nurse, and you sent me a penny.’ The child stopped, stared, then advanced a few paces timidly till she came to a sunbeam which crossed the room, dividing it in two. Then she put out her pretty hands, moving them to and fro as if laving them in the sunshine, whilst her eyes were full of wonder. ‘Was it you did all those funny things with the cards and the pigeons and the pennies, and the orange and the glass of water?’ ‘That was me, Ada—you see I know your name—and if you like, I will show you some more funny things just now whilst I am waiting for your mamma.’ ‘I’ll go and bring mamma. She would like to see them too.’ ‘No, no; don’t go for her. She will be here as soon as she is ready. Besides, this is a trick I want to show you all to yourself. You are not afraid of the magician—are you?’ Little Ada peered at him through the sunbeam. He was such a little man; and although his cheeks were somewhat hollow and his complexion rather sallow, there was an expression of frank gentleness in his eyes which at once inspired confidence. A child might trust him, and a child is quick to detect untrustworthy persons. ‘I’m not afraid—why should I?’ said Ada laughing. ‘Because you do not know me—at least you do not know me enough to be quite sure that I am not the wicked magician who tried so hard to kill Aladdin because he got hold of the wonderful lamp.’ ‘But that was a long time ago,’ she said with an air of thoughtfulness; ‘and papa says there are no magicians—no real magicians—and no ghosts now, and that anybody who pretends to tell fortunes or to do magic things is’—— The child instinctively paused and turned her face away. ‘Is an impostor, and ought to be taken up by the policeman,’ said Tuppit, cheerfully completing the sentence for her; ‘and he is quite right so far. All the same, Ada, there are great magicians always close by us. There is the Good Magician, Love, who makes you fond of your father and mother and ready to do kindly things for other people. Then there are the wicked magicians Anger and Envy, who make you hate everybody and everybody hate you. But you know I don’t pretend to be like them; I only make-believe—that is, I perform tricks and tell you how they are done.’ ‘Is that all?’ she said, disappointed, allowing her hands to drop, and passing through the sunbeam, which had hitherto formed a golden bar between them. ‘That is all; but you have to work a great deal before you can do so much.—Now, here is this big desk—your papa opens it by magic; but do you know how it is done?’