She knew nothing of horticulture, and had never given any attention to gardens, they had not come into her line of life, but she was always observant, and she noticed the trim and orderly manner in which this place was kept, and thought that it reflected great credit on the gardener, whom she saw in the distance wheeling away a great load of dead leaves, which he had collected into a heap and pressed into his barrow. She was about to call the man to her, and compliment him on the state of his garden, at the same time taking advantage of the opportunity of asking a few questions about his employer, when a little girl, with long fair hair streaming down her back, ran out of the shrubbery in chase of an india-rubber ball which bounded before her. Pauline drew back for an instant, but the child did not notice her, so engrossed was she by her game. In a few minutes, however, the ball bounded over the hedge, and fell at Pauline's feet. The child looked round for aid, which was generally available in the person of the gardener; but the gardener had wheeled his barrow out of sight by this time, and all that the child could do, therefore, was to put her finger to her lip, and burst into tears. 'Don't cry, my child,' said Pauline softly, speaking to her. The child looked up, but on catching sight of Pauline hid her face in her hands, and cried more copiously than before. 'Don't cry, my child,' repeated Pauline; 'don't be afraid. See, here is your ball,' holding it up. 'Shall I throw it to you.' 'Ess,' said the child, looking up shyly through her fingers, 'frow it down at wonst, pease.' Pauline complied. The ball fell at the child's feet, and rolled a little distance behind her, but she took no notice of it; she was fully occupied in examining her newly found friend. Out of her great blue eyes the child stared in silence for some moments, then coming closer to the hedge she said, still staring earnestly, 'Are you a Hinjin?' Pauline was completely puzzled. 'A what, child?' she asked. 'A Hinjin,' repeated the child. 'Do you tum from Hinjia?' 'Gr--r--rand Dieu!' cried Pauline, surprised into one of the exclamations of her old life. 'No, child; what makes you think that?' 'Tos you have dot a brack face, and you speak so funny,' said the child. Pauline smiled. 'A black face,' she said to herself. 'I am swarthy enough, I know; but if this child thinks me black, she must needs have lived with very fair people. She seems sufficiently intelligent, and may probably be able to give me some information. What is your name, my dear?' she said to the child. 'Bell,' said the child promptly. 'Bell!' repeated Pauline; 'what a pretty name--blonde et belle! What is your other name, my dear?' The child thought for a moment, and then said gravely, 'Lickle Bell.' 'O, but you must have some other name besides that,' said Pauline. 'What is your other name?' 'No more,' said the child, shaking her head.