“Oh! Princess, don’t talk so!” said Alice in grief and pain. “Remember he is a holy man, and quite outside all earthly affections. If you must fall in love, let it be with one of the golden priests whom you may marry honourably.” “Be quiet, Alice! when you whine it gets on my nerves. Now listen! I want you to go to the Palace--_my_ Palace, not his--and bring the patchwork quilt, the one worked in little silk sixpences by my godmother, the one that is all the colours in the universe from sunrise to sunset, with the rainbow thrown in.” “But why?” said Alice, surprised at the sudden change in the conversation. Marigold put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Because it’s highly respectable--tiny patches and not a single rag.” Alice still stared, not understanding; and Marigold continued, a curious expression in her eyes: “You know I went in to see little Patches again this afternoon, and he told me the doctor didn’t approve of my appearance. He said a decent woman wouldn’t dress in rags, and he said he was coming at half-past ten to-morrow morning, and hoped I’d take the hint. Patches repeated it all angelically, like the little cherub he will be so soon.” “I liked the look of the doctor,” said Alice sturdily. “As I peeped through the window he made a rare picture, with the little cripple crept up so happily against his shoulder.” The proud lips closed rather tightly. “Oh yes, I dare say he is very clever and very kind, and he didn’t look exactly like a quack, but--but he is horribly rude--rude and unkind, without occasion.” “He didn’t approve of your dancing. No religious man would. That twirling and twisting was never meant for righteous people.” “He never saw me dance--and it wasn’t that. He was jealous of me, Alice.” “Jealous? A full-grown man jealous of a woman, Princess?” “Why not? The little cripple boy loves me; before, he loved no one but him.” Alice looked perfectly unconvinced, and Marigold continued: “You don’t believe me, yet it’s true. But still we won’t argue it. I want you to bring me the patchwork quilt. I’m going to make a dress of it as neat as neat can be. It will please little Patches to see all the pretty colours, and as for Dr Quack--actually he told me to sweep the floor, and called my dancing antics.” “And you mean to go in to-morrow when he is there?” “Oh no. I’ll make the dress to-morrow, and go in the day after.” And so not long afterwards they retired for the night. CHAPTER XII “I hear you walked home from the Temple,” St Armand remarked lightly. “Now, that’s what I call sensible. Nothing like a healthy walk! It stirs the megrims.” “I almost agree with you. I enjoyed it, I believe--if I remember anything about enjoyment. And on my way home I paid a call.” “A professional one?” “Well, partly. Yes, wholly, I suppose. I called upon the beggar girl.” “I saw her at vespers to-night. I like the little beggar girl. She has a rather interesting face.”