"I'm afraid it's rather sad, but never mind. It was something most extraordinary that happened to my Uncle Bill--or was it my Uncle John? Never mind, it was one of them. It must have been, because they're the only two uncles I've got. Well, he was standing one day in front of his fire, when a dreadful thing occurred. His backbone melted." "What!" gasped Erica. "His backbone melted. Of course, that made him very ill, but fortunately the doctors knew what to do. They packed him round in ice and it froze again, and now he's walking about just the same as ever." "I don't believe it," cried Erica scornfully. "It couldn't happen." "I don't know about that. I'm telling you just what he told me." "Then your uncle was only telling you stories." "I think that depends on which uncle it was. You see, Uncle John is a very truthful man. But my Uncle Bill probably doesn't always tell the truth." "Then it was your Uncle Bill who told you about it," said Erica conclusively. Kitty had been struggling to repress her mirth. At last she said: "Can't you tell us something a bit less gruesome than that?" "Oh yes," cried Erica, "a happy-ever-after one." "In that case it'll have to be a fairy story," decided Duane. "Very well then." She began her story while the other two listened, the light of the bicycle lamp flickering on the little group, picking out in particular the clear-cut, aristocratic profile of the narrator. Kitty lay looking at it dreamily and finding a curious pleasure in doing so, never realizing until now what a fascinating face it could be to watch, not exactly for any particular beauty of feature, nor even for the vividness of the light grey eyes in their dark setting, but for something elusive in its rather sleepy expression. "Once upon a time," she began, "there was a king over a far Eastern land, and this king had three tall, brave sons. The two eldest were said to be the handsomest men in the whole kingdom, but though the youngest was just as big and strong, and his hair was just as golden and his eyes as blue, he had a thorn in the flesh----" "Like St. Paul," interrupted Erica eagerly. "Yes. Only we don't know what St. Paul's was, but we do know the prince's----" "Then what was it?" put in Kitty. "Don't interrupt or you'll mix me up," said the narrator severely. "Let me see, where was I?" "At the beginning, I should say," said Kitty. "One day there came a herald from the neighbouring kingdom. Everyone knew he came from the neighbouring kingdom because he wore his master's coat-of-arms----" "What was the coat-of-arms like?"