“No,” said Dick.

“I like the name of Dick,” said the young lady, with charming frankness.

Without being able to tell why, Dick felt rather glad she did.  He plucked up courage to ask her name.

“My name is Ida,” answered the young lady.  “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” said Dick.  “It’s a bully name.”

Dick turned red as soon as he had said it, for he felt that he had not used the right expression.

The little girl broke into a silvery laugh.

“What a funny boy you are!” she said.

“I didn’t mean it,” said Dick, stammering.  “I meant it’s a tip-top name.”

Here Ida laughed again, and Dick wished himself back in Mott Street.

“How old are you?” inquired Ida, continuing her examination.

“I’m fourteen,—­goin’ on fifteen,” said Dick.

“You’re a big boy of your age,” said Ida.  “My cousin Dick is a year older than you, but he isn’t as large.”

Dick looked pleased.  Boys generally like to be told that they are large of their age.

“How old be you?” asked Dick, beginning to feel more at his ease.

“I’m nine years old,” said Ida.  “I go to Miss Jarvis’s school.  I’ve just begun to learn French.  Do you know French?”

“Not enough to hurt me,” said Dick.

Ida laughed again, and told him that he was a droll boy.

“Do you like it?” asked Dick.

“I like it pretty well, except the verbs.  I can’t remember them well.  Do you go to school?”

“I’m studying with a private tutor,” said Dick.

“Are you?  So is my cousin Dick.  He’s going to college this year.  Are you going to college?”

“Not this year.”

“Because, if you did, you know you’d be in the same class with my cousin.  It would be funny to have two Dicks in one class.”

They turned down Twenty-fourth Street, passing the Fifth Avenue Hotel on the left, and stopped before an elegant house with a brown stone front.  The bell was rung, and the door being opened, the boys, somewhat abashed, followed Mr. Greyson into a handsome hall.  They were told where to hang their hats, and a moment afterwards were ushered into a comfortable dining-room, where a table was spread for dinner.

Dick took his seat on the edge of a sofa, and was tempted to rub his eyes to make sure that he was really awake.  He could hardly believe that he was a guest in so fine a mansion.

Ida helped to put the boys at their ease.

“Do you like pictures?” she asked.

“Very much,” answered Henry.

The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating herself beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided fancy, commenced showing them to him.

“There are the Pyramids of Egypt,” she said, pointing to one engraving.

“What are they for?” asked Dick, puzzled.  “I don’t see any winders.”