had thrown no light whatever upon it. To stifle curiosity and live on from day to day in unquestioning enjoyment of his darling's sweet ways and ever-growing beauty was the only course open to him, and he fell asleep at last with only a pleasant sense of resignation uppermost in his mind. To still the curiosity of his neighbours was, however, a harder task, for he had not been at his work many hours next day before he discovered that the ringing sound of the black steed's hoofs had been plainly heard in the stillness of the summer night, and that every one knew it was at his own door that the sound had ceased. But he had not much to tell, and his friends grumbled not a little at his dulness and want of natural curiosity. Had they been in his place, they one and all declared, the messenger should not have been suffered to depart in such haste, but should have been forced to give some account of himself and his errand. However, Jack looked stolid over the matter, and evidenced no desire whatever on his own part to discover what the child's relations chose to conceal from him, and declared that so long as he was allowed to keep her he was content. And in this happy, though withal, to them, highly unsatisfactory state of mind, they were obliged one by one to leave him. Twice every year the mysterious black horse clattered over the village road and stopped at the boatman's cottage, and Little Miss Primrose was lifted up into the saddle and admired, and her little hand regretfully kissed by the gallant horseman; and then he rode away again, and no one was any the wiser, or any nearer the solution of the mystery. And Little Miss Primrose herself grew prettier and prettier, her hair more golden, and her dark eyes more deep and full of beautiful meaning; and in spite of her lowly bringing-up, her ways grew more and more like those of the little "Queen of the Flowers" Jack called her. She took very happily to her new ways of life; and while Jack was busy over his shoemaking, she would sit for hours at the little casement which overlooked the river, watching the water rushing below the bridge, and counting the ripples when she flung in pebbles from a cherished store kept for the purpose of disturbing the river's quietude, as it passed with more gentle flow beneath the window. When the summer came, she would take out her little stool and sit on the bridge, patiently holding a purse in her hand, sometimes for hours together, ready for the passers-by to drop in their toll-pennies as they crossed. She was very proud of being toll-keeper, and would willingly spend a whole afternoon on the bridge, with her doll for company, for the chance of bringing home just one bright penny to dad at the time of the evening meal. "I am the Queen of the Bridge!" she used to say proudly to those who asked her name as they passed. And she would add graciously, "I am Little Miss Primrose."