same idea, and have your prince
changed into a dog for awhile."

"Oh, thank you!" she cried. "I'd forgotten that story. I am sure it will
help."

He walked away, leaving her poring over the picture, but presently, as he
paced the deck, he felt her light touch on his arm, and turned to see her
glowing little face looking up into his.

"I've got it!" she cried. "The picture made me think of the very thing. I
had been fumbling with a tangled skein, trying to find a place to begin
unwinding. Now you have given me the starting thread, and it all begins to
smooth out beautifully. I'm going for pencil and paper now, to write it
all down before I forget."

That pencil and note-book were her constant companions the rest of the
voyage. Sometimes Lloyd, coming upon her suddenly, would hear her
whispering a list of rhymes such as more, core, pour, store, shore,
before, or creature, teacher, feature, at which they would both laugh and
Betty exclaim, hopelessly, "I can't find a word to fit that place." At
other times Lloyd passed her in respectful silence, for she knew by the
rapt look on Betty's face that the mysterious business of verse-making was
proceeding satisfactorily, and she dared not interrupt.

The day they sighted land, Lloyd exclaimed: "Oh, I can hardly wait to get
home! I've had a perfectly lovely summah, and I've enjoyed every mile of
the journey, but the closah I get to Locust the moah it seems to me that
the very nicest thing my wondah-ball can unroll (except givin' me Hero, of
co'se) is the goin' back home."

"Your wonder-ball," repeated Betty, who knew the birthday story. "That
gives me an idea. The princess shall have a wonder-ball in the play."

Lloyd laughed. "I believe that's all you think about nowadays, Betty. Put
up yoah scribblin' for awhile and come and watch them swing the trunks up
out of the hold. We're almost home, Betty Lewis, almost home!"

CHAPTER XII.

HOME AGAIN

Meanwhile in Lloydsboro Valley the summer had slipped slowly by. Locust
seemed strangely quiet with the great front gates locked, and never any
sound of wheels or voices coming down the avenue. Judge Moore's place was
closed also, and Tanglewood, just across the way, had been opened only a
few weeks in the spring. So birds and squirrels held undisputed possession
of that part of the Valley, and the grass grew long and the vines climbed
high, and often the soft whisper of the leaves was the only sound to be
heard.

B