“I say, Dot, why in the name of wonder did you stumble into such a hole as this?  Could you find no better lodgings than these in all London?” he said to her at last.

“Yes, Neil,” she replied, “we could find lodgings fit for the queen, but then we have not the queen’s income, and these rooms are so cheap—­only a pound a week, and the kitchen fire included, I know they are not pretty, but they are very clean and quiet, and Mrs. Buncher is so kind.”

Bessie tried to speak naturally, but there was a tremor in her voice, and the tears came to her great blue eyes as she looked up at her cousin.  Neil saw the tears, and stooping over her he kissed the quivering lips, and stroking the glossy hair, said to her: 

“Never mind, Bess, your face makes everything lovely, and this dingy parlor with you in it is pleasanter to me than the finest drawing-room in Grosvenor Square.  But you ought not to be here, you and your father.  You should be at Trevellian House, as our guests, and if I owned it you should; but there’s a lot of old pokes staying there now, friends of Blanche—­Lord and Lady Somebody, Mother is great on the titles, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Bessie said, slowly; then, after a moment, she added:  “I should like to see your mother and Miss Trevellian.  I was too young at Penrhyn Park to remember much about them.  Do you think they will call?”

Neil knew they would not, and he could scarcely repress a smile as he fancied the McPherson carriage, with his mother and Blanche, driving up before that shabby house, but he said: 

“Perhaps so, though they are always so busy during the season; but I’ll tell you how you can see them.  Go to the park to-morrow afternoon about five o’clock.  They are sure to be there in their gorgeous attire, and Blanche will have her poodle-dog.”

“Shall you be there?” Bessie asked, and Neil replied: 

“Yes, possibly,” while to himself he thought that he should not, for how could he ride by with the gay throng and know that Bessie was sitting in a hired chair watching for him, and most likely making some demonstration which would draw attention to her?

“I may, and I may not,” he continued:  “but it will make no difference; you will see Blanche with her poodle and her red parasol, and you will see the princess, if you are there about half past five or six, but for Heaven’s sake don’t rush forward like an idiot, as so many do, especially Americans and people from the country:  it stamps you at once as a greenhorn.”

“No, I won’t,” Bessie said, humbly, for something in Neil’s tone hurt her; then, as she saw him consulting his watch, she said:  “Oh, Neil, can’t I walk with you just a little way?  Father never goes out after tea, and I do so long for some fresh air.”