The door shut, and Caroline, Miss Honey, and Delia looked at each other in a daze. Tears filled Delia's eyes, but she controlled her voice and only said huskily, "Come here, Miss Honey, and let me brush you off--you look dreadful. Did it--were you--are you hurt, dear?" "No, but you pushed me awful hard, Delia, and a nasty big man grabbed me and tore my guimpe--see! I wish you'd told me what you were going to do," began Miss Honey irritably. "And you gave me a big kick--it was _me_ he grabbed--look at my cheek!" Caroline's lips began to twitch; she felt hideously tired, suddenly. "Children, children, don't quarrel. General, darling, _won't_ you sit still, please? You hurt Delia's knees, and you feel so heavy. Oh, I wish we were all home!" The man in uniform came down the stairs. "Will you all step up, madame says, and she has something for you up there. I'll take the baby," as Delia's eyes measured the climb. "Lord, I won't drop her--I've got two o' my own. 'Bout a year, isn't she?" "He's a boy," panted Delia, as she rested her weight on the rail, "and he's only eight months last week," with a proud smile at the General's massive proportions. "Well, he _is_ a buster, isn't he? Here is the nurse, madame, and the children. The doctor has gone." Caroline stretched her eyes wide and abandoned herself to a frank inspection of her surroundings. For this she must be pardoned, for every square inch of the dark, deep-colored room had been taken bodily from Italian palaces of the most unimpeachable Renaissance variety. With quick intuition, she immediately recognized a background for many a tale of courts and kings hitherto unpictured to herself, and smiled with pleasure at the Princess who advanced, most royally clad in long, pink, lace-clouded draperies, to meet them. "You are the brave nurse my maid told me about," said the Princess; "she saw it all. You ought to be very proud of your quick wit. I have some sherry for you, and you must lie down a little, and then I will send you home." Delia blushed and sank into a high carved chair, the General staring curiously about him. "It wasn't anything at all," she said awkwardly; "if I could have a drink----" Caroline checked the Princess as she moved toward a wonderful colored decanter with wee sparkling tumblers like curved bits of rainbow grouped about it. "Delia means a drink of water," she explained politely. "She only drinks water--sometimes a little tea, but most usu'lly water." "The sherry will do her more good, I think," the Princess returned, noticing Caroline for the first time, apparently, her hand on the decanter. [Illustration: "THE STANDING CROWD CRANED THEIR NECKS, AS DELIA SAT UP STRAIGHT AND HELD OUT HER ARMS"] At this point Miss Honey descended from a throne of faded wine-colored velvet, and addressed the Princess with her most impressive and explanatory manner.