"This will do for a pattern," he said to himself.

The child stared at the handkerchief--stared at Alban--took courage--and rubbed vigorously at her eyes.

The instinct, which is worth all the reason that ever pretended to enlighten mankind--the instinct that never deceives--told this little ignorant creature that she had found a friend.

She returned the handkerchief in grave silence.

Alban took her up in his arms.
"Your eyes are dry, and your face is fit to be seen," he said.