"Oh, Nunckle! and you're responsible for the fact that he's mine at all!" "I responsible?" "Well, but for you I never might have seen him even; and I'm sure there isn't another like Herbert in the whole round world. Everyone wants him." Presently I enquired when she proposed to introduce this paragon to the person responsible for him. "I've got him here to-day." I looked at her in pained silence, for Stella-my-niece, calmly fishing for "hard ones" in a chocolate box, was, as it were, sheltered under the lee of a long-haired gentleman who occupied rather more than double half-a-crown's worth of red velvet seat. "There?" I whispered, pointing to the long-haired gentleman who neighboured her, and wondering what her mother would have to say about it all. Stella-my-niece smiled. "Do you imagine that I should bring Herbert into the pit?" "Point him out to me." "I can't. Now they're going to begin!" She snuggled down into her place and invited me to do likewise in my own as the curtain rose and revealed the legs of one of our leading actor-managers, and the audience clapped, hoping for more. "Now we're going to enjoy ourselves! Don't forget to hold my hand if anything pops." Stella-my-niece has made it a stern rule that we are not to talk during the Acts, contriving to telegraph her appreciation of most things by fervent clutches at my arm; but to-day the effects of this salutary regulation were spoilt for me by Herbert. My attention wandered. "Is he an actor?" I asked sternly, as the lights leaped up again. "Which do you mean? I think they were all perfect darlings in that scene." "Why, Herbert, of course." "HERBERT--Sir HERBERT? He isn't in this, is he? I didn't see anyone looking as bored as he does. Hunt him up in the programme--it's down there under your boots." "I didn't mean TREE. I meant Herbert--your Herbert." "My Herbert?" Stella-my-niece opened her mouth showing astonishment and very pretty teeth. "Yes, your Herbert. He's an actor fellow, isn't he?" "No, he's an umbrella--my new umbrella. I bought him with the sovereign you sent me for my birthday, and he is such a darling! I felt he ought to have a name of his own, so I called him Herbert. He looks like that." "A girl's name--Maud, for instance, only one doesn't use them in the garden much----" "A girl's name, like Pauline, may suit your fountain pen, and Dad may call the motor 'Mary Jane' when he's pleased with how he's mended her; but I decided I would have a man's. It sounds better to say, 'Herbert is seeing me home, thank you.' The sad thing is that I'm sure I shan't keep him long; he's so pretty. When he's waiting for me in umbrella-stands I feel nervous, and in trains. He's so unique--so utterly unlike anyone else's umbrella. I know you'll love him."