king and want people to go?"

"You say, 'You have my permission to go,'" answered Mary.

The Rajah waved his hand.

"You have my permission to go, Roach," he said. "But, remember, this is
very important."

"Caw--Caw!" remarked the crow hoarsely but not impolitely.

"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir," said Mr. Roach, and Mrs. Medlock took
him out of the room.

Outside in the corridor, being a rather good-natured man, he smiled
until he almost laughed.

"My word!" he said, "he's got a fine lordly way with him, hasn't he?
You'd think he was a whole Royal Family rolled into one--Prince Consort
and all."

"Eh!" protested Mrs. Medlock, "we've had to let him trample all over
every one of us ever since he had feet and he thinks that's what folks
was born for."

"Perhaps he'll grow out of it, if he lives," suggested Mr. Roach.

"Well, there's one thing pretty sure," said Mrs. Medlock. "If he does
live and that Indian child stays here I'll warrant she teaches him that
the whole orange does not belong to him, as Susan Sowerby says. And
he'll be likely to find out the size of his own quarter."

Inside the room Colin was leaning back on his cushions.

"It's all safe now," he said. "And this afternoon I shall see it--this
afternoon I shall be in it!"

Dickon went back to the garden with his creatures and Mary stayed with
Colin. She did not think he looked tired but he was very quiet before
their lunch came and he was quiet while they were eating it. She
wondered why and asked him about it.

"What big eyes you've got, Colin," she said. "When you are thinking they
get as big as saucers. What are you thinking about now?"

"I can't help thinking about what it will look like," he answered.

"The garden?" asked Mary.

"The springtime," he said. "I was thinking that I've really never seen
it before. I scarcely ever went out and when I did go I never looked at
it. I didn't even think about it."

"I never saw it in India because there wasn't any," said Mary.

Shut in and morbid as his life had been, Colin had more imagination than
she had and at least he had spent a good deal of time looking at
wonderful books and pictures.

"That morning when you ran in and said 'It's come! It's come!' you made
me feel quite queer. It sounded as if things were coming with a great
procession and big bursts and wafts of music. I've a picture like it in
one of my books--crowds of lovely people and children with garlands and
branches with