shops--were all bewildering. She could have sung for joy as they drove along in the hansom."It appears to please you," Mr. Vincent said, with a little smile."It does! It does!" she exclaimed. "Only I should like to walk along the pavements--""You shall presently.""And look into all the windows--""I'm afraid I couldn't stand that.""I wish we had to buy something, then we should go into a shop.""We will," he said, and presently put his hand through the little door at the top of the hansom, which was in itself an excitement to her. They stopped at a trunk shop."But, father--" She was breathless."We must get you a Gladstone bag," he explained.She tripped into the shop after him. It was like entering the ante-room of an enchanted land, for did not great travellers come here before they started for the North Pole or the South, to fight battles, or to go on strange missions to foreign courts? No one guesses the happy extravagance of a young girl's heart on all the first times in her life--the dreams that beset her, the pictures she sees, the strange songs that ring in her ears."That's a great improvement," Mr. Vincent said when they re-entered the cab and a good, serviceable, tan-colored Gladstone had been safely put on the top. "We will throw the other away when you have taken out your things.""Oh no, father--it's Hannah's.""True. She can take it away as part of her trousseau." Mr. Vincent laughed at his own little joke. He looked young, he was almost gay, as if he, too, felt that they had come out on a wonderful journey in this simple one to town. But he had suddenly discovered a new pleasure in life; for it had not occurred to him that Margaret was so unsophisticated, or that there could be so much that was new to her.Everything was a joy, even the little sitting-room at the Langham. This, she thought, was what rooms in London looked like--rooms in hotels, at any rate. But though a new experience came upon her every moment, all the time at the back of her head she saw a white road with clumps of heather and gorse beside it, and a church on a hill; a mile farther there was a duck-pond and a lane that led to Woodside Farm; already, even through her impatience to see more of this wonderful London, she looked forward to the first glimpse of her mother's face watching for them on the morrow."I'm afraid I shall have to leave you here for an hour or two. I have come to London on business," Mr. Vincent said. "But I must try and show you some sights presently, though I'm not good at that sort of thing. Perhaps we might go to a theatre to-night--""Oh! But what would Hannah say?" At a safe distance it was amusing to think of Hannah's wrath. "I don't know." It amused him, too. "But it shall be something that won't hurt us very much. I believe 'King John' is 

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