to form a miniature stage, on which puppets were moving and vociferating. Katy knew in a moment that she was seeing her first Punch and Judy show!

The box and the crowd began to move away. Katy, in despair, ran to Wilkins, the old waiter, who was setting the breakfast table.

`Oh, please stop that man!' she said. `I want to see him.'

`What man is it, miss?' said Wilkins.

When he reached the window, and realized what Cry meant, his sense of propriety seemed to receive a severe shock. He even ventured on remonstrance.

`H'I wouldn't, miss, h'if h'I was you. Them Punches are a low lot, miss; they h'ought to be put down, really they h'ought. Gentlefolks, h'as a general thing, pays no h'attention to them.'

But Katy didn't care what `gentlefolk' did or did not do, and insisted upon having Punch called back. So Wilkins was forced to swallow his remonstrances and his dignity, and go in pursuit of the objectionable object. Amy came rushing out, with her hair flying, and Mabel in her arms, and she and Katy had a real treat of Punch and Judy, with all the well-known scenes, and perhaps a few new ones thrown in for their especial pleasure; for the showman seemed to be inspired by the rapturous enjoyment of his little audience of three at the first-floor windows. Punch beat Judy and stole the baby, and Judy banged Punch in return, and the constable came in, and Punch outwitted him, and the hangman and the devil made their appearance duly; it was all perfectly satisfactory, and `just exactly what she hoped it would be, and it quite made up for the muffins', Katy declared.

Then, when Punch had gone away, the question arose as to what they should choose out of the many delightful things in London, for their first morning.

Like ninety-nine Americans out of a hundred, they decided on Westminster Abbey, and indeed there is nothing in England more worthy of being seen or more impressive, in its dim, rich antiquity, to eyes fresh from the world which still calls itself `new'. So to the Abbey they went, and lingered there till Mrs Ashe declared herself to be absolutely dropping with fatigue.

`If you don't take me home and give me something to eat, she said, `I shall drop down on one of these pedestals and stay there and be exhibited for ever after as an "h'effigy" of somebody belonging to ancient English history.

So Katy tore herself away from Henry the Seventh and the Poet's Corner, and tore Amy away from a quaint little tomb shaped like a cradle, with the marble image of a baby in it, which had greatly taken the child's fancy. Amy could only be consoled by the promise that she should soon come again and stay as long as she liked.

She reminded Katy of this promise the very next morning.

`Mamma has waked up with rather a bad headache, and she thinks she will lie still and not come to breakfast,' she reported. `And she sends her love, and says will you please have a cab and go where you like, and if I won't be a trouble, she would be glad if you would take me with you. And I won't be a trouble, Miss Katy, and I know where I wish you would go.'

`Where is that?'

`To see that cunning little baby again that we saw yesterday. I want to show her to Mabel - she didn't go with us, you know, and I don't like to have her mind not improved; and, darling Miss Katy, mayn't I buy some flowers and put them on the baby? She's so dusty and so old that I don't believe anybody has put any flowers on her for ever so long.'