Mr. Achilles

to a kind of waking joy and thoughtfulness. As he made change and did up bags and parcels of fruit, his thoughts kept hovering about her, and his lips moved in a soft smile, ha

t of the rattle and din, had spoken to him. As he looked up, the big, sooty city became softly the presence of the child.... The sound of pennies clinking

it carefully on the shelf. The lettering traced along its side was faded and dim; but he saw again the child's eyes lifted to it-the lips half-parted, the eager question and swift demand-that he should tell her of Athens and the Parthenon-and the same love and the wonder that dwelt in his own heart for the city of his birth. It was a strange coincidence that the child should have come to him. Perhaps she was the one soul in the great, hurrying city who could care. They did not understand-these hurrying, breathless men and women-how a heart could ache for something left behind across

r sides.... He bent closer to it, staring at a little silver plate that swung from the strap. He carried it to the window, rubbing it on the worn black sleeve, and bending closer, studying the deep-cut letters. Then he lifted his head. A quick sigh floated from him. Miss Elizabeth Ha