"Thank you very much!" she murmured--and, gratefully shielding her tearful eyes behind the convenient news-sheet, she began glancing up and down the front page with all its numerous announcements, from the "Agony" column down to the latest new concert-singers and sailings of steamers. Suddenly her attention was caught by the following advertisement-- "A Lady of good connection and position will be glad to take another lady as Paying Guest in her charming house in Kensington. Would suit anyone studying art or for a scholarship. Liberal table and refined surroundings. Please communicate with 'Lavinia' at--" Here followed an address. Over and over again Innocent read this with a sort of fascination. Finally, taking from her pocket a little note-book and pencil, she copied it carefully. "I might go there," she thought--"If she is a poor lady wanting money, she might be glad to have me as a 'paying guest,' Anyhow, it will do no harm to try. I must find some place to rest in, if only for a night." Here she became aware that the old gentleman who had lent her the paper was eyeing her curiously yet kindly. She met his glance with a mixture of frankness and timidity which gave her expression a wonderful charm. He ventured to speak as he might have spoken to a little child. "Are you going to London for the first time?" he asked. "Yes, sir." He smiled. He had a pleasant smile, distinctly humorous and good-natured. "It's a great adventure!" he said--"Especially for a little girl, all alone." She coloured. "I'm not a little girl," she answered, with quaint dignity--"I'm eighteen." "Really!"--and the old gentleman looked more humorous than ever--"Oh well!--of course you are quite old. But, you see, I am seventy, so to me you seem a little girl. I suppose your friends will meet you in London?" She hesitated--then answered, simply-- "No. I have no friends. I am going to earn my living." The old gentleman whistled. It was a short, low whistle at first, but it developed into a bar of "Sally in our Alley," Then he looked round--the other people in the compartment, the husband and wife, were asleep. "Poor child!" he then said, very gently--"I'm afraid that will be hard work for you. You don't look very strong." "Oh, but I am!" she replied, eagerly--"I can do anything in housework or dairy-farming--I've been brought up to be useful--" "That's more than a great many girls can say!" he remarked, smiling--"Well, well! I hope you may succeed! I also was brought up to be useful--but I'm not sure that I have ever been of any use!" She looked at him with quick interest. "Are you a clever man?" she asked. The simplicity of the question amused him, and he laughed. "A few people have sometimes called me so," he answered--"but my 'cleverness,' or whatever it may be, is not of the successful order. And I'm getting old now, so that most of my activity is past. I have written a few books--"