"I might be a sorceress."

"I believe you are."

"Or an adventuress, for all you know."

"Or a Princess," said I.

"What made you do this?"

"I'll tell you," said I. "Whilst you were asleep, a little smile was
playing round your lips. And this smile told me that he had two twin
sisters who dwelt In your eyes. And, like the soldier, I wanted to see
them, Princess."

"Well, you have now, haven't you?"

I looked at her critically. "I'm afraid they must be out," said I. In
spite of herself she laughed. "No, there they are. Besides--"

"What?"

"The little smile said he had a big brother living in your heart."

"Yes," she said softly.

"Yes. And that made me very brave, Princess. Otherwise I should never
have dared. Honestly, it was all the little smile's fault, bless him.
Isn't it glorious here?"

The bright eyes swept the horizon.

"Yes," she said slowly, "it is. In fact, every prospect pleases."

"And only golf is vile."

"Byron never said that."

"I know he didn't," said I. "Nor, in fact, did Heber. He said 'man.'
All the same, I'm not vile. I'm rather nice, really. At least, so one
of the smaller birds told me."

"Not really?"

"I mean it."

"Perhaps it was a skylark."

"As a matter of fact," I said stiffly, "it was an owl. A breed famous
for its wisdom."

"Ah, but you shouldn't believe everything you're told."

"It isn't a question of what I believe, but of what other people
believe," said I. "But if you don't believe it yourself, how can you
expect--"

"I never said I didn't believe it myself. Besides, I don't want to
argue. I want to watch the smiles playing 'Here we go round the
mulberry bush.'"

The girl broke into peals of silvery laughter. "Is my nose as bad as
all that?" she said presently.

"Your nose is the nose of dainty Columbine," said I. "Dream noses,
they call them. And you know that mulberry bushes don't figure in that
game any more than the bells of St. Clement Danes are ever used by
children playing 'Oranges and lemons.'"

"Admit it was a floater on your part, and I'll let you play a round
with me."

"I--er--confess, upon consideration, that the allusion--"

"That'll do," she said, laughing.

I rose. She put out a hand, and I drew her to her feet.

"My clubs are just by that rock there. Do you think you can manage
Hans Andersen?"

"Every time," said I, picking up the book. I shouldered her clubs and
together we scrambled over the ri