He pressed his hands to his eyes and gazed again, then ran to the bell-rope and pulled it. But when he had done this he wished it undone. For would not his agitation excite Mrs. Parrot’s suspicions? What was there in a stranger’s child that should so interest him? He bit his lip and controlled himself with desperate will; and, when Mrs. Parrot opened the door, he said to her in a steady voice and with a forced smile: “I am sorry to trouble you. I am very fond of little children. Pray can you tell me who that child is, there?” Mrs. Parrot drew to the window, evidently finding nothing odd in the question, and said: “Why, that’s little Nelly Holdsworth, Mrs. Conway’s daughter.” “Ah!” exclaimed Holdsworth. “She _is_ a dear!” continued Mrs. Parrot. “I am very fond of that child, Mr. Hampden. She’s the only child i’ the road I allow to come into my garden, for children are so wilful, there’s no tellin’ what they’ll do the moment your eyes are off ’em. See what a little lady she looks, and how prettily she holds her doll! She’s waiting for her mamma, I suppose.” Mrs. Parrot rapped with her nails on the window. The child looked round, and Holdsworth shrank away. Mrs. Parrot beckoned. Holdsworth would have stopped her, but could find no words. “She’s coming, Mr. Hampden. I’ll bring her to you, sir, if you’ll wait a moment.” And out she went. In a few seconds she returned, leading by the hand the child, who hung back when she caught sight of the white-faced, bearded man. “There, Mr. Hampden, this is my pretty young friend, little Nelly!” exclaimed Mrs. Parrot, stooping to give the child a kiss. “Go and shake hands with the gentleman, my dear, and show him your nice doll. I’ll tell you when I see your mamma.” “Come, dear, come to me,” said Holdsworth in a low voice. The child approached him slowly, stopping now and again, and looking shyly at Mrs. Parrot. “Tut! tut!” exclaimed that lady. “What are you afraid of, Miss Nelly? Go and shake hands with the gentleman, like a little lady.” Holdsworth put out his hand; the child advanced a step nearer; he fell upon one knee and drew her to him. For some moments he could not speak; he could only look at her--look with eyes of all-devouring love absorbing all the sweetness of that young face, feeling a pang of exquisite joy, but shivering quickly as his fingers locked themselves upon her tiny hand. He longed to press the little creature to his heart, to fasten his lips upon her mouth, to weep over her. “Tell me your name, little one!” “Nelly,” replied the child, keeping at arm’s length from him, and staring into his face. “Nelly what?” “Nelly Ho’dwor’t.” His own name, thus lisped by her, thrilled through him; he caught his breath, and said: “May I kiss you?” She put up her mouth, and he kissed her. “How pretty your hair is!” he murmured, in a voice of exquisite tenderness, which made Mrs. Parrot turn suddenly and look at him. He met her glance with a smile, and said: