of the stairs and call Miss Moines, only that
she couldn't bring herself to leave him.

Then, as she stood in her attitude of doubt, the eyes opened and
looked at her. They looked at her straight, and yet glassily. They
looked at her with no gladness in the look, almost with no
recognition. If anything there was a kind of sickness there, as if the
finding her by his bedside was a disappointment.

"I know what it is," she said to herself. "He wants--_her_."

But the eyes closed again. The face was as white, the profile as
rigid, as ever.

She sped to Barbara, who was lying on a couch in the front spare room.
"Come! He woke up! He wants you!"

Back in the bedroom she effaced herself. They were all there
now--Barbara, Steptoe, and Miss Moines.

"It's what he would do," Miss Moines corroborated, "if he was coming
back."

Letty had told part of what she had seen, but only part of it. The
rest was her secret. The little mermaid's kiss had left the prince as
inanimate as before; hers had brought him back to life!

It was the moment to run away. Miss Moines had said that having once
opened his eyes he would open them again. When he did he mustn't find
her there. They were all so intent on watching that this was her
opportunity.

They were all so intent--but Steptoe. She was buttoning her jacket
when she saw his eyes steal round in her direction. A second later he
had tiptoed back into the hall, and closed the door behind him.

It was vexing, but not fatal. He had probably gone for something.
While he was getting it she would elude him. One thing was
certain--she couldn't face the look of disappointment in those sick
dark eyes again. She opened the door. She shut it noiselessly behind
her. Steptoe wasn't there, and the way was free.

Barbara stood just where Letty had described herself as standing when
the eyes had given her that glassy stare. To herself she seemed to
stand there for ever, though the time could be counted in minutes. The
pounding of her heart was like a pulsating of the house.

The eyes opened again. They opened, first wearily, and then with a
fretful light which seemed to be searching for what they couldn't
find.

Barbara stood still.

There was another stirring of the hand, irritated, impatient. A little
moan or groan was distinctly of complaint. The eyes having rolled
hither and thither helplessly, the head turned slowly on the pillow so
as to see the other side of the room.

"He's looki