amber. She changed the dog's
appearance by rearrangements of his ears, to which he submitted with
a slobbering ecstasy, gazing at her with yellow eyes which looked
flattened in his head. Turned quite back, their pink insides exposed
to view, the ears changed him into a brand-new dog, at which his master
stared with an amazement which soon was merged in gratification. With a
pocket-handkerchief she performed marvels of impersonation which the boy
watched with an almost severe intentness, even putting out his tongue
slowly, and developing a slight squint, when the magician rose to the
top of her powers. She conjured with a silver coin, and of course let
the child play with her watch. She had realized at a glance that those
things which would be considered as baby nonsense by an English boy of
ten, to this small dweller on the plain of Marathon were full of the
magic of the unknown. And at last:

"Throw me up an orange, Dion!" she cried. "I know there are two or three
left in the pannier."

Dion bent down eagerly, rummaged and found an orange.

"Here!" he said. "Catch!"

He threw it up. She caught it with elaboration to astonish the boy.

"What are you going to do?" asked Dion.

"Throw me up your pocket-knife and you'll see."

Again he threw and she caught, while the boy's mouth gaped.

"Now then!" cried Rosamund.

She set to work, and almost directly had introduced her astounded guest
of the Greek kingdom to the famous "Crossing the Channel" tragedy.

So great was the effect of this upon little Miltiades,--so they both
always called the boy when talking of him in after times,--that he began
to perspire, and drops of saliva fell from the corners of his small and
pouting mouth in imitation of the dreadfully human orange by which he
was confronted. Thereupon Rosamund threw off all ceremony and frankly
played the mother. She drew the boy, smiling, sideways to her, wiped his
mouth with her handkerchief, gently blew his small nose and gave him a
warm kiss.

"There!" she said.

And upon this the child made a remark.

Neither of them ever knew what it meant. It was long, and sounded
like an explanation. Having spoken, Miltiades suddenly looked shy. He
wriggled towards the top of the ladder. Dion thought that Rosamund would
try to stop him from leaving her, but she did not. On the contrary,
she drew up her legs and made way for him, carefully. The child deftly
descended, picked up his staff and turned. The dog, bar