what the profession was. When I
wouldn't, he said it was that of a detective. "If I succeed, my mother
will give up her objections," he explained. "And I think I shall
succeed." It was when he said this, that he looked so wicked--or else as
if he wanted to sneeze--as I told you. What can he mean? And what has he
found out? Or is it only my bad conscience? Oh, dear, I should like to
give it a thorough spring cleaning, as one does in Lent! I'm afraid
that's what is needed. I've had plenty of blacks on it since Ellaline
made me consent to her plan, and I began to carry it out. But now I have
more. I have lots of dresses and hats on it, too--lovely ones. And
petticoats, and such things, etc., etc. Did Dragons of old insist on
their fairy princess-prisoners having exquisite clothes, and say "hang
the expense"? _This_ Dragon has done so with his Princess, and I had to
take the things, because, you see, I have engaged to play the part, and
this apparently is his rich conception of it. He says that
I--Ellaline--can afford to have everything that's nice; so what _can_ I
do? The worst of it is, much of my new finery is so delicate, it will be
_defraiche_ by the time the real Ellaline can have it, even if it would
fit or suit her, which it won't. But probably the man was ashamed to be
seen with a ward in gray serge and a sailor hat, so I couldn't very well
violate his feelings. Perhaps if I'd refused to do what he wanted, all
his hidden Dragon-ness would have rushed to the surface; but as I was
quite meek, he behaved more like an angel than a dragon.

It really was fun buying the things, in a fascinating shop where the
assistants were all more refined than duchesses, and so slender-waisted
they seemed to be held together only by their spines and a ladylike
ligament or two. But if Providence didn't wish women to lace, why
weren't our ribs made to go all the way down? The way we were created,
it's an _incentive_ to pinch waists. It seems _meant_, doesn't it?

I was a dream to look at when we went to supper at that restaurant;
which was _one_ comfort. Mrs. Senter's things were no nicer than mine,
and she was so interested in what I wore. Only she was a good deal more
interested in Sir Lionel.

"Everywhere I go, people are talking of you," she said. "You have given
them exciting things to talk about."

"Really, I wasn't aware of it," returned the poor Dragon, as
apologetically as if she'd waked him up to say he'd been snoring.

S