And again the soft voice tempting her to fling aside all the carping responsibilities of life, and take a side in the big game--winning or losing. To fight against the Master, this Mr Barringcourt, this quack insufferable--to fight as spirits do--the body, that tame servant, working its little part in the big argument, for the universal end. “What is my body?” said she, laughing at her reflection in the glass. “Something that will wear out and die, and never come again to me. Something I may give away to any man, provided that I don’t forget and then repeat the gift to some one else--like some kind ladies do. Why should I feel his laugh this morning? I should have laughed as well. I’ll give my body to the great High Priest, if he begs hard enough--only if he begs very, very hard; and I’ll keep my soul to give to no man--not even elderly gentlemen who sit on camp-stools to escape the indignity of sitting on the ground.” Thus was Marigold, so lately doleful, once more herself again. With ribbons and strings and laughter she set out to sing for Patches, dancing all the way. Like those who are very, very ill, Patches looked worse to-day, though yesterday you would have thought he never could look worse. Yet his face brightened up wonderfully when she appeared. “I knew you’d come,” said he. “Of course,” said Marigold. “I couldn’t stay away, because I’ve really come to love you, Patches, dear.” “To love _me_?” he said, looking up with big dark eyes. “Yes. You’re good, and you make me feel good. When I go away from you, I begin to have all kinds of see-saw feelings--up and down, every way. I think you must be one of the little green men who live within the magic circle. That’s how it is you know so many kings and queens, because kings and queens always like to be where no one else can get, though they don’t always manage it.” “Do they have any pain in the magic circle?” “No, never. There’s a big notice on the outside ring, saying ‘Pain not admitted on penalty of Death’; and so he keeps out, because he wants to live like most things else--though it isn’t very kind of him.” “Then I’m not a green man, because I have pain?” “Well, if you’re not, you will be some day.” “Miss Rags,” he said, suddenly sitting up in his chair eagerly, “I’ll--I’ll tell you what I’ll do. When it comes my turn to go in, I’ll grab hold of Pain ever so tight and not leave go of him, and then he’ll be forced to go in with me--and then they’ll kill him--and everybody else outside here will be quite safe then.” “But how brave you’ll have to be to keep tight hold of him!” “Yes, I know. But if I’d been all right and had my leg, I was going to be a soldier. Why--why--do your eyes keep filling with tears, like that?” “Oh! I don’t know. I expect I’m not the right one to come to you. You should have Dr Quack all the time. He’s got a big hard heart, and he doesn’t know how to cry, so--so he can’t.”