A barrel organ of the old type was playing by the pavement, making a sound as if an old man gone idiotic were humming a tune to himself. A villainous-looking monkey on the organ-top, held out his hand when it saw Fanny approaching. It knew the world evidently, or at least physiognomy, which is almost the same thing. "He takes it just like a man," she cried, as the creature grabbed one of her pennies and then nearly broke its chain trying to get at her to tear the rose from her hat. "Look, it knows the people who are fond of it; it is just like a child." Charles tore her from the monkey, only for a milliner's shop to suck her in. "I must run in here for a moment, it's only about a corset I ordered; I won't be three minutes." He waited ten, thinking how strange it was that this girl saw something attractive in nearly everything--strange cats, monkeys, and even old Hancock. At the end of twenty minutes' walking up and down, he approached the milliner's window and peeped into the shop. Fanny was conversing with a tall woman, whose frizzled black hair lent her somehow the appearance of a Frenchwoman. The Highgate Frenchwoman was dangling something gaudy and flimsy before Fanny's eyes, and the girl had her purse in her hand. Charles gave a sigh, and resumed his beat like a policeman. At last she came out, carrying a tissue-paper parcel. "Well, have you got your--what you called for?" "No, it's not ready yet; but I've got the most beautiful--Oh my goodness me!--how stupid I am!" "What?" "I have only three halfpence left, and I have forgotten the eggs and things for supper." "Give me your purse, and let me look into it," he said, taking the little purse and turning away a moment. Then he handed it back to her; she opened it and peeped in, and there lay a sovereign. "It's just what father does," she said, looking up in the lamp-light with a smile that somehow made Mr Bevan's eyes feel misty. "What makes you so like him in everything you do?" And somehow these words seemed to the correct Mr Bevan the sweetest he had ever heard. Then they marketed after the fashion of youth when it finds itself the possessor of a whole sovereign. Fanny laying out the money as the fancy took her, and with the lavishness so conspicuously absent in the dealings of your mere millionaire. They then returned to "The Laurels," Charles Bevan carrying the parcels. The dining-room of "The Laurels" was a huge apartment furnished in the age of heavy dinners, when a knowledge of comparative anatomy and the wrist of a butcher were necessary ingredients in the composition of a successful host.