"And so you are little Elsie Rose!" said the lady graciously.
"Yes, and you are my Aunt Mary," answered the child, putting up her rosy lips for a kiss.
After a little pause Elsie said softly, "Shall I tell you somefing what Frank said 'bout you?"
"Which is Frank?" questioned her aunt.
"He's my brother what lended you the 'brella."
"Yes, dear, if you like," said Mrs. Wilfrid with languid interest.
"Frank said you was beautiful, like a picksher, and I think so too."
A sudden rush of tears came into Mrs. Wilfrid's eyes. Since the death of her husband, whom she had dearly loved, such sweet incense of praise had been a thing unknown, and coming as it did from baby lips, the sincerity of it was undoubted.
Elsie chatted away for a little while, and then she said quaintly, "I must go home now and help mother, 'cause she's very, very busy."
Mrs. Wilfrid laughed, and after making the little one promise to come again she bade her good-bye.