“Was it?” She accepted the limp cluster of faded blooms, viewed it carelessly, and dropped it to the path, where it lay, a pathetic symbol of Beauty’s perishableness. “Kitty,” he said to himself, “you’re a minx, a dear, charming little minx!” “Please tell me,” he said aloud, “what you do with yourself all the rest of the time?” She looked across questioningly. [Illustration] “After you leave the garden, I mean. I see you for a minute or two and then you utterly disappear and never come back--until the next morning. Do you live in a real house? Is there a front door to it? Or is it an enchanted palace? If I searched, could I find it, or would folks merely look at me compassionately and shake their heads if I asked them to direct me to the Castle of the Roses?” [Illustration] “Oh, I’m sure they’d shake their heads,” she laughed, “if you asked for that. But there is a front door.” “And if I were to come to it and ask--ask for the Princess----” “Aunt Amanda would send you away in short order. You see, she doesn’t consider me exactly as a princess.” “Then whom would you advise me to ask for?” “Nobody.” “Oh! But--if I should get someone to bring me?” “That might be different, I reckon. Perhaps then Aunt Amanda would let you in.” “And the Ogre? I would not be eaten alive?” [Illustration] “The Ogre?” she asked, puzzled. “Yes; I heard him calling you one morning.” “Oh,” she laughed, “the Ogre! Well, now as for the Ogre---- But you’d have to risk the Ogre.” “I will!” he exclaimed with decision. “Only---- Perhaps you know a Colonel Barrett here in Belle Harbour?” “Barrett?” She shot a sudden glance of surprise. “What is his first name?” “I--really, I don’t remember. A friend in Baltimore insisted upon giving me a letter of introduction to him. I don’t fancy them much, you see, and so I’ve never presented it. But now--if you think--that is, you know, if Colonel Barrett knows the Ogre--or Aunt Amanda--” He paused suggestively. “There is a Colonel Robert Barrett here,” she said, “and I’ve met him. And I think”--she was smiling as though the mention of the Colonel’s name evoked humorous recollections--“I think he knows the Ogre.” “Really?” he cried. “Then I must find him out. When you come to think of it now, a letter of introduction is something that shouldn’t be neglected, should it?” “I never had one,” she replied demurely. Then, catching sight of the neglected basket of roses, “Oh, just see,” she exclaimed remorsefully, “they’re all withering!” [Illustration] “Not enough to hurt,” he said. “Besides, there are lots more.” [Illustration] But she shook her head and, with the basket over one arm and scissors and skirts in hand, turned towards the house. “Good-morning,” she said. “Oh, but wait.” “Well?” He searched desperately for something to say, anything to keep her there. Finally,-- “They’re looking well, aren’t they, the roses?” “Oh, yes.”