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Updated: June 1, 2025
In the rear of the house was a walled garden, filled with flowers, shrubbery, and fruit trees. Opening the door with his key, Stephen Foster led his guest into the drawing-room, where Madge was sitting with a book. She kissed her father, and gave a hand reluctantly to Nevill, whom she addressed as Mr. Royle.
And, 'Miss Royle is havin' her lunch out, he says. Then would you believe it, he took more'n half my dishes away!" Jane giggled. "Potter's a sharp one," she declared. "But, oh, you should've been behind a door just now when you-know-who and I had a little understandin'." "Eh?" he inquired, working his black brows excitedly. "How was that?" Gwendolyn went calmly on with her mutton-broth.
"I couldn't take you if you was grown-up," he asserted firmly, blocking her advance; " leastways not without Miss Royle or Jane'd say Yes. It'd be worth my job." Gwendolyn lowered her eyes, stood a moment in indecision, then pulled off the hat, tossed it aside, went back to the window, and sat down.
"I was waitin' to jump out at Miss Royle and give her a scare when she'd come through," she explained. Gwendolyn said nothing. It was a morning abounding in unexpected good fortune.
"Oh, I want you all the time, moth-er!... And I want you, my precious baby.... How much do you love me, moth-er?... Love you? oh, big as the sky!... Dear moth-er, may I eat at the grown-up table?... All the time, sweetheart.... Goody! And we'll just let Miss Royle eat with Jane and " She caught a stealthy rustle! rustle! rustle! from the direction of the hall.
Royle say something to Boggley about the horse being young and skittish, and a faint misgiving passed through me, but I forgot it talking to Mr. Royle, and when we reached Rika I went off to dress for dinner, taking it for granted that the others were just behind.
Gwendolyn, watching out from under the arm that rested across her forehead, realized how her last night's breach of authority had impressed each one of them. And secretly rejoicing at her triumph, she kept up a brisk tattoo. Miss Royle ignored her. "I'll take a little more chocolate, Thomas," she said, with a fair semblance of calm. But cup and saucer rattled in her hand.
At that Gwendolyn sat up, shook back her hair, and raised a startled face to the row of toys in the glass-fronted case. Murdering the King's English! Had he dared to harm her soldier with the scarlet coat? "I was urgin' your betterin', too, Miss Royle," reminded Thomas, gently. "I says to Jane, I says " The soldier was in his place, safe. Relieved, Gwendolyn straightened out once more on her back.
Miss Royle began to uncoil. The Policeman was tick-tocking up and down. "The Den's damaged!" he lamented. "Now, who's goin' to pay?" demanded the Piper. "I'm afraid the Bear's hurt," declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. In her eagerness to trip Jane, Gwendolyn had utterly forgotten the Bear's Den. Now she saw it a large cage, light in color, its bars woven closely together.
A scarlet spot of determination burned round either dimple. Her gray eyes smouldered darkly with a purpose that was unswerving. "I'm just going down there!" she said aloud. Rustle! Rustle! Rustle! It was Miss Royle, entering.
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