the lump of sharp gravel.

"It looks so easy," she said.

"It was paining her exceedingly, but she is all right now."

"Then I may mount?"

I bowed.

"Without hurting Lotta?" she asked.

I turned the mare about and dropped my hand into position. For a
moment she hesitated. Then there was the swish of a riding skirt, the
glint of a patent-leather boot, an arched foot in my palm, and without
an ounce of lift from me she was in the saddle.

I stepped back and raised my hat.

She gathered the reins slowly; then bent and patted the mare's neck.

I made no move.

"I am waiting," she said presently, with a quick glance my way.

"I do not see the groom," said I, looking back along the road.

She gave a little laugh. "You won't," she said. "He thinks I went
another way."

"Then Your Highness means----"

"You do not look so stupid," she remarked.

"Sometimes men's looks are deceiving."

"Then, sir, Her Highness means she is waiting for you to mount," she
said, very graciously.

"As her groom?" I asked.

"As anything you choose, so long as you ride beside me to the hill
above the Park."

I took saddle at the vault and we trotted away.

"Why did you make me ask for your attendance?" she demanded.

"Because I dared not offer it."

"Another deception in your looks," she replied.

I laughed. She had evened up.

"You are a soldier--an American officer?" she said suddenly.

"Your Highness has guessed most shrewdly," I answered, in surprise.

"Are you staying at the Embassy?" she asked.

"No," said I. "I am not on the staff. I am only a bird of passage."

"Do you know General Russell?"

"My father knew him, I believe," I answered, evasively, and turned the
talk into less personal matters.

When we reached the hill I drew rein. Down in the valley lay the
Summer Palace and the gates of the Park were but a few hundred yards
below us. I dismounted to say good-bye.

"I am very grateful for your courtesy," she said.

"It is for the stranger to be grateful for your trust," I answered.

She smiled,--that smile was getting into my poor brain--"A woman
usually knows a gentleman," she said.

I bowed.

"And under certain circumstances she likes to know his name," she added.

For a moment I was undecided. Should I tell her and claim my
cousinship? I was sorely tempted. Then I saw what a mistake it would
be,--she would not believe it,--and answered:

"John Smith, Your Royal Highness, and you