"Of all flowers the rose is the Queen, and is the best loved of D. D." "To remember to keep back unkind words. D. D." "If we knew all we should find there are excuses for all. D. D." "(Note). Burnt almonds are the favourite sweet of D. D. and 'Abide with Me' is D. D.'s favourite hymn." Their ways lying in the same direction, it was this young devotee who was privileged to walk home with the passionately admired D. D. On a certain afternoon as they made their way through the quiet streets of the old town their talk was of a long-advertised concert to take place that evening, at which a great singer was to appear. "How much you will enjoy it, Kitty," Deleah was saying with a little girlish longing. "Not only the concert, but everything. Let me picture it. You will run home when you leave me--me in horrid Bridge Street!--and in your bedroom there will be a fire lit, and on the bed your pretty evening frock will be spread, and your lace petticoat, and your silk stockings--" "Oh, how do you know all that, Miss Day? You know everything! But I shan't enjoy the concert a bit. I shall not. Do you know why? Because you will not be there." "Oh, nonsense, Kitty! Nonsense! Nonsense!" "I shall be thinking of you all the time, and wishing--oh wishing! Miss Day, do you believe it is true that if we keep on wishing with all our strength--not a selfish pig of a wish, you know, but something nice for another person--the wish ever, _ever_ comes true?" "Every wish is as a prayer with God," quoted Deleah, unquestioning in her child's heart the literal truth of the words. "Then, Miss Day, this is not Kitty Miller walking with you any longer, but one big solid Wish--Oh, there he is again, Miss Day! There is young Mr. Forcus--look!" "I see him. I am not going to stop. Let us walk on quicker, Kitty." "Isn't it strange that he should always be riding here, just when we come out of school, Miss Day?" "Never mind. No; you are not to look round, Kitty." "How _beautifully_ he pulls off his hat! He had a most dreadfully disappointed look when you would not stop, Miss Day. I think you are very cruel." "Never mind. No, Kitty! Don't, dear. No lady looks back when a gentleman passes her." (A new entry appeared in "The Deleah Book" that night: "No lady looks round when a gentleman passes her. D. D.") "Miss Day!"--with a soft, irrepressible giggle--"He has turned his horse and is riding after us." "Never mind. Let us hurry on." But when the mare was pulled up beside her, her hoofs clattering on the cobble-stones of the street, Miss Day, in spite of herself, must stop.