The small boy treated the tall, pretty young lady to a most confiding nod and a wink. "I've brought her ter school," he remarked.
"Oh, have you?" returned the young lady laughing, "then I'd better invite you in, I suppose," and she led the way toward the entry-room where hung some dozens of shabby hats and bonnets. "And what is your name?" she inquired.
"Her name is Angel, it is," responded the little fellow briskly, with emphasis on the pronoun, as if to let the young lady understand at once that her interest need extend no further than to the prospective pupil.
"Didn't a know I are Angel?" queried the smiling cherub with her accustomed egotistical surprise.
"And what is your other name?" questioned Miss Stannard smiling.
"She ain't got no more," returned the escort succinctly.
"And what is yours?"
"Mine—oh, I'm just the Major, I am," with off-hand loftiness.
"Indeed? And where do you live, Major?"