"Every person we met stared at us; we were such a grotesque looking couple. She accepted my proffered arm, and clasped her hands together round it, making a complete handle of her two arms; and so she hung on with all her might. But I ought not to laugh at the poor thing, for she needed somebody to help her along, and I'm sure she wasn't heavy enough to tire me out, if she did make the most of herself. I wonder who she belongs to. I shouldn't think her friends would let her go about the streets so, especially such walking as it is to-day." "What's her name?" inquired Gerty. "Didn't you find out?" "No," answered Willie; "she wouldn't tell me. I asked her, but she only said, in her little cracked voice (and here Willie began to laugh immoderately), that she was the _incognito_, and that it was the part of a true and gallant knight to discover the name of his fair lady. Oh, I promise you she was a case! Why, you never heard anyone talk so ridiculously as she did! I asked her how old she was. Mother said that was very impolite, but it's the only uncivil thing I did or said, as the old lady would testify herself if she were here." "How old is she?" said Gerty. "Sixteen." "Why, Willie, what do you mean?" "That's what she told me," said Willie; "and a true and gallant knight must believe his fair lady." "Poor body!" said True; "she's childish!" "No, she isn't Uncle True," said Willie; "you'd think so part of the time, to hear her run on with her nonsense; and then, the next minute, she'd speak as sensible as anybody, and say how much obliged she was to me for being willing to put myself to so much trouble for the sake of an old woman like her. Just as we turned into Beacon Street we met a school of girls, blooming beauties, handsome enough to kill, my old lady called them; and when they came in sight, she seemed to take it for granted I should get away from her, and run after some of them. But she held on with a vengeance! It's lucky I had no idea of forsaking her, for it would have been impossible! Some of them stopped and stared at us--of course I didn't care how much they stared; but she seemed to think I should be terribly mortified; and when we had passed them all, she complimented me again and again on my spirit of conformity, her favourite expression." Here Willie was out of breath. True clapped him upon the shoulder. "Good boy, Willie?" said he, "clever boy! You always look out for the old folks, and that's right. Respect for the aged is a good thing; though your grandfather says it's very much out of fashion." "I don't know much about fashion, Uncle True; but I should think it was a pretty mean sort of a boy that would see an old lady get one fall on the ice, and not save her from another by seeing her safe home." "Willie's always kind to everybody," said Gerty.