“I know!” exclaimed Gerald, “the Little Butterfly, as they call her!”

“At a cigar-shop,” said Lance.

“Mrs. Schnetterling’s.  Not very respectable,” put in Lady Flight.

“Decidedly attractive to the little boys, though,” said Gerald.  “Sweets, fishing-tackle, foreign stamps, cigars.  I went in once to see whether Adrian was up to mischief there, and the Mother Butterfly looked at me as if I had seven heads; but I just got a glimpse of the girl, and, as my uncle says, she would make an ideal Mona, or Miranda.”

“Lydia Schnetterling,” exclaimed Mr. Flight.  “She is a very pretty girl with a nice voice.  You remember her, Miss Mohun, at our concerts?  A lovely fairy.”

“I remember her well.  I thought she was foreign, and a Roman Catholic.”

“So her mother professes-—a Hungarian.  The school officer sent her to school, and she did very well there, Sunday-school and all, and was a monitor.  She was even confirmed.  Her name is really Ludmilla, and Lida is the correct contraction.  But when I wanted her to be apprenticed as a pupil-teacher, the mother suddenly objected that she is a Roman Catholic, but I very much doubt the woman’s having any religion at all.  I wrote to the priest about her, but I believe he could make nothing of her.  Still, Lydia is a very nice girl-—comes to church, and has not given up the Choral Society.”

“She is a remarkably nice good girl,” added Mrs. Henderson.  “She came to me, and entreated that I would speak for her to be taken on at the marble works.”

“You have her there?”

“Yes; but I am much afraid that her talents do not lie in the way of high promotion, and I think if she does not get wages enough to satisfy her mother, she is in dread of being made to sing at public-houses and music-halls.”

“That nice refined girl!”

“Yes; I am sure the idea is dreadful to her.”

“Could you not put her in the way of getting trained?” asked Gerald of his uncle.

“I must hear her first.”

“I will bring her up to the Choral Society tonight,” said Mr. Flight.

“What did you call her?” said Geraldine.

“Some German or foreign name, Schnetterling, and the school calls her Lydia.”

At that moment the council was invaded, as it sat in Miss Mohun’s drawing-room, upon rugs and wicker chairs, to be refreshed with tea.  In burst a whole army of Merrifields, headed by little Primrose, now a tall girl of twelve years old, more the pet of the family than any of her elders had been allowed to be.  Her cry was—-

“Oh, mamma, mamma, here’s the very one for the captain of the buccaneers!”

The startling announcement was followed by the appearance of a tall, stalwart, handsome young man of a certain naval aspect, whom Lady Merrifield introduced as Captain Armytage.

“We must congratulate him, Gillian,” she said.  “I see you are gazetted as commander.”