"Charlie, let Lily ride your horse!" was the instant answer. "Oh, and there was Tom! He was little, almost like me, and one day he kicked me."
"I dare say he did. Tom was always a Turk, and little brothers don't always know how to behave to their sisters," said Colonel Maxwell, and for the first time he laughed.
Lily laughed too. "Little brothers!" she said to herself.
"And now won't you tell me what your own name is?"
"Lily."
"Nothing more than that?"
"Lily Randal," murmured the child, with less readiness than before.
"No, no; I shall have to tell you, if you can't tell me."
The child suddenly turned her head. It was time, she evidently thought, for all this fun with a stranger to come to an end. He was a very nice gentleman, and looked very kind, and said a great many things she could not understand, and made her say things too. But reality was best, after all; a heart's love is not transferred in a moment, no matter who may have the best right to it; and there stood John, looking pale and grave, in the shadow of the apple-trees, listening in silence to all that was going on.
"I'm John's Lily!" she said, and slipping her hand out of Colonel Maxwell's, she sprang back to her old friend and began in an eager whisper, "John, John, pick me up and give me a ride round the garden. Quick, John dear! When we come back they'll all be gone and we'll have dinner."