"We shall be late," she cried excitedly, "if you don't come at once--at once, I say. And think what a terrible thing it would be to keep Prince Charming waiting." I nodded to Burbidge and started off with Bess at a brisk trot up the front drive, mounted the field that led to the station, and waited panting on the platform for the little dog. To my surprise Bess had a cloak on her arm. "You are not cold, child?" I asked. "No, no, mum; but what if the pug was to catch cold?" "We must hope not, for that would be a calamity," I answered. Bess skipped and danced up and down, clinging to my hand, jumping and swaying backwards and forwards, as if her little body were made of quicksilver. Then, after a while, she suddenly fell into a reflective mood, and asked what are the best ways of forgetting that you are waiting? "To think of something else, or not to want so badly," I answered. "I couldn't do that," answered Bess, gravely, "because I shouldn't be me if I did, and he couldn't be Prince Charming if I didn't want him. I feel," she gasped, "as if I just want, want till I am dying of wanting." I looked at my little girl. "Suppose he didn't come by this train, what would you do then?" "I don't know. Go to bed, I think, and cry." [Sidenote: THE PRINCE ARRIVES] But happily there was no need of so sad an ending to a bright spring day, for as I spoke the train rushed in. The porter hurried forward, and there was a general commotion. Two passengers got out, a couple of old fowls were removed, and a second later, a little basket also was taken out of the luggage-van. "Shall I have this sent to the Abbey?" inquired the station-master. But Bess would not hear of so slow a manner of getting the pug-puppy down. In delirious joy the little mantle was flung on the ground and her arms were tightly clasped round the basket. When one has been sent a pug-pup there is only one place to go to--home. So I picked up the mantle, and Bess, bearing her cherished possession, led the way. Then there was tea, which, as we have no bells, Bess saw to herself. I heard her in the passage giving a hundred contradictory orders. It is to come at once, and then, there's to be broth for the puppy and cakes, "sponge and the other, and meat," and at last she returned breathless to me. "I have ordered everything," she cried, and took the little dog off my knee. It was a sweet little baby dog with a crinkly-crankly black phiz and dear little blinking, cloudy blue eyes. The ribbon that was sent to adorn his neck was much too big to fasten round his throat, but he looked contented and rested drowsily under Bess's continued protestations of affection. After tea we sat on before the chapel hall fire. "I thought last Christmas," said Bess, "when I had the white bride doll, that I never should want nothing no more. But now that I have the pug Prince, I know I shall never want anything again, not if I live to be a hundred."