He sat down again, and a more serious look came into his face; for some moments he did not speak.
"What are you thinking about, Walter?" asked his sister.
Walter looked up.
"I was thinking about two little children I met to-day," he said. "Away over on the Boulevard X—— ever so far."
"That is not so very far from where we were this morning," interrupted the aunt.
"They were such tiny things, and they looked so forlorn and so unhappy; I can't get them out of my head," said Walter.
"Did you give them anything? Did they seem quite alone?" asked Rosamond.
Walter laughed.
"You don't understand," he said; "they were not beggars. Bless me! I shouldn't like to encounter that very imperious little lady if she thought I had made you think they were beggars."
"'Imperious little lady,' and 'poor forlorn little things;' what do you mean, Walter?" said Rosamond.