"Yes."
"And sing for her too?"
"Yes."
"Did you play and sing your very best for her?"
"Yes, I did. But I have not told you half yet. This afternoon I went up, and she went out for a walk with me; and we went down through Kensington Gardens, and all round by the Serpentine—"
"Did she go into that parade of people?" said Ingram, looking up with some surprise.
"No," said the lad, looking rather crestfallen, for he would have liked to show off Sheila to some of his friends, "she would not go: she preferred to watch the small boats on the Serpentine; and she was very kind, too, in speaking to the children, and helping them with their boats, although some people stared at her. And what is more than all these things, to-morrow night she comes with me to a concert in the St. James's Hall—yes."
"You are very fortunate," said Ingram with a smile, for he was well pleased to hear that Sheila had taken a fancy to the boy, and was likely to find his society amusing. "But you have not told me yet what you think of her."
"What I think of her?" said the lad, pausing in a bewildered way, as if he could find no words to express his opinion of Sheila. And then he said, suddenly, "I think she is like the Mother of God."
"You irreverent young rascal!" said Ingram, lighting his pipe, "how dare you say such a thing?"