instantly tripped up by her audience. But Queen Mab was too skilful a
story-teller to leave out the minutest detail in describing the
perilous voyage of the paper boat, or to spare the duckling a single
snub from the narrow-minded hen or the bumptious tom-cat. The "Tin
Soldier" she generally gave in answer to the special request of her
small nephew, but she herself seemed to prefer the other story. There,
the duckling's sorrowful wanderings finished with his turning into a
swan, and Queen Mab always had a liking for happy endings.

She and the old house were exactly suited to each other, and seemed to
share the same fragrant atmosphere, so that wherever her courtiers met
her, and flung their arms round her neck, they were instantly reminded
of sweet-brier and honeysuckle, jars of dried rose leaves, and all the
other delicious scents of Brenlands. The children never noticed that
there were streaks of silver in her hair, or that on her left hand she
wore a mourning ring; nor did they know the reason why, on a certain
day in the year, she seemed, if possible, more kind and loving than on
any other, and went away somewhere early in the morning with a big
bunch of flowers, and came back with the basket empty.

"Aunt," said Barbara, "what's an old maid?"

"Why, I'm one!" answered Queen Mab, laughing; whereupon it became every
one's ambition to live a life of single blessedness. When there was
cherry-tart for dinner, an alarming number of stones were secretly
swallowed, in order that the person guilty of this abominable piece of
sharp practice might count out, "This year--Next year--Some
time--Never!" and at old maid's cards the object of the game was now
reversed, and instead of trying to "go out," every one strove to remain
in, the fortunate being in whose hands the "old maid" remained at the
finish always brandishing the hitherto detested card with a shriek of
triumph.

The last trace of the mimic battle had been cleared away, and now where
tin cavalry had ridden boldly to their fate, and lead guards had died
but not surrendered, nothing was to be seen but peaceful plum-cake, or
bread and butter cut in thin and appetizing slices.

"I'm sorry you weren't able to make a longer stay," said Aunt Mabel, as
she poured out the tea. "But your father said he couldn't spare you
for more than a week at Easter. However, the summer will soon be here,
and then you will come again for a proper visit. By-the-bye,
Valentine,