Lunch was finished, I dressed the little girls in their new hats and coats, wriggled their fingers into new gloves, saw to it that there was not a crease in their stockings nor a chink in the lacing of their boots, and had just settled them on the sofa in the drawing-room to wait quietly until I rushed through my own hasty toilette, when--the door opened, and who should walk in but Ralph Maplestone himself! For different reasons his appearance struck consternation into the breasts of all three beholders. I was naturally overcome with embarrassment as to what he had come for now; the little girls were seized with a devastating fear lest his arrival should interfere with their treat. They leapt to their feet, and rent the air with protestations. "Oh, oh! It's the Same Man!" "We're going out! We're going out! We've got on our hats." "To the Zoo! So's Miss Harding. She's just going to put on her hat." "It's our treat. Father's away. He's having a treat, and she promised--she promised we could go!" Tears sounded in the voices, showed in suspicious redness round the eyes. Mr Maplestone smiled--like many grave people he has a beautiful smile--he laid one big hand on the top of each little hat, and swayed them gently to and fro. "Well, and why not? Of course you are going! All good little girls go to the Zoo, and ride on the elephants, and throw buns to the bears. You are extra good little girls, and so you can see something else--a little bird, not much bigger than a canary, who can talk and say words almost as well as you can yourselves. And think of the monkeys!" He withdrew one hand and held it out to me across the children's heads, smiling and apologetic. "I'm afraid I am looked upon as an obstacle. Please don't let me detain you. I would not disappoint them for the world. I can call another day." But by this time fear had given place to gratitude and the quick affection which children show to grown-ups who understand! Winifred and Marion leapt at his arms, clung, wheedled, and implored. "You come too! You come too! Show us the bird that talks. We want you. We want you to come with us. Miss Harding wants you. You _do_ want him, don't you, Miss Harding?" The leap of my heart showed that I did! The very suggestion had been enough to give an altogether different aspect to the expedition; to invest it with a spice of adventure, not to say romance, which was most refreshing to a spinster living in a basement flat! I fought down an inclination to laugh, _hoped_ that I conquered an inclination to blush, and said primly:-- "My dears, you must not be exacting. Mr Milestone has no doubt engagements--" "Not one!" he contradicted eagerly. "Not one! Please let me come, Miss Harding. It would be a charity, for if you turn me away I shall be at a loose end all the afternoon. I am like a fish out of water in town!" "You should return to the country," I said sternly. "It is wasting time to remain here."