“How do you do?” he said gravely; then he looked round for his father. His father was gone. For a moment he had a wild thought of darting after him, of screaming for help and flying down those soft, broad covered passages. Horror shook his quivering nerves, but pride restrained him. His father had deserted him. Perhaps she had the power to make his father invisible. At any rate, she should not make a Lestrange a coward, so he sat down politely and looked at her. “I hope you will like these little cakes I have got for your tea,” said Edith, and her hand shook a little. “They are all in the shape of fishes. I have a very nice cook, and she made them for me, and we put eyes in--and everything.” “It was very kind of you,” said Leslie, “but I would rather not eat them.” “But you will have some tea, won’t you?” she pleaded; “and all these buns have got hundreds and thousands on them, and they are buttered.” There was no doubt about it, she knew how to put things, this enchantress; the hundreds and thousands were a distinct point. “Thank you, I had my tea before I came,” said Leslie. “I won’t take anything to eat--at least I’d rather not.” “Oh, I don’t want you to do anything you’d rather not!” cried Edith quickly. “I want you to be happy; don’t you think--don’t you think, Leslie, we might be friends?” Leslie eyed her fixedly. She had not laughed at him, nor asked how old he was, nor offered to kiss him; she had done nothing really wrong, and there was something quite friendly and shining in her eyes--probably magic--but certainly shining. “I don’t think it’s possible,” said Leslie slowly. Then he added politely: “Shall we talk of something else?” Edith went to the window. Her eyes did not shine so much when she came back--perhaps his courage and self-command were overcoming the magic. It seemed like it, for her voice was not so gay. To begin with, it had sounded very gay, as if she would like to dance and play games. This was probably what she had done with father. She had bewitched him completely. Mr. Flinders had said so. “Your father told me, Leslie,” said Edith when she returned from the window, “that you were very fond of soldiers. I, too, am very fond of soldiers, so I thought perhaps you would like to see some I bought this morning--they are two cavalry regiments; both the generals have cocked hats and swords.” “Are there guns?” asked Leslie with forgetful rapture. “Yes, there are guns and gun-carriages. Shall I clear this table? There, you know how to fasten them on perhaps! Will you show me how?” Leslie regained his knowledge of the situation. “They are very easy to put on,” he said. “You run them along like this. Are they imitation, or can they go off?” “They can go off with peas,” said Edith kindly.