“You’re not one bit,” she retorted. She struggled down from Hal’s arms. “You may shake hands with me if you like.” Very formally he shook hands with the little girl. In the old garden Hal lost his sadness. It was late in the afternoon, when he was leaving, that she asked the question that brought it back, “When is mother coming?” “Presently. Presently,” he said quickly. As he climbed into the wagonette, he signed to Teddy. Bending down he whispered: “If you should see her----You know whom I mean? I’ll be stopping at Orchid Lodge; you can reach me there.” CHAPTER XVII--DESIRE Next morning he was up so early that the farmhouse was still asleep when he tiptoed down the creaking stairs. As he opened the door into the orchard, a puppy squirmed from under the currant bushes and approached him with timid tail-waggings. He had the easily damped enthusiasm of most puppies; he was by no means certain that he might not be in disgrace for something. Nature had originally intended him for a bull-terrier; before finishing her work, she had changed her mind and decided that he should be a greyhound. The result was an ungainly object, white in color, too high on the legs, with red-rimmed eyes which blinked continually. Teddy knelt down and cuddled him, after which they were friends. How still the world was! Now that no one was about, the garden seemed no longer a dumb thing, but a moving fluttering personality. Dew sparkled on the red-tiled paths. It glistened in spider-webs. It put tears into the eyes of flowers. A slow wind, cool with the memory of night, rustled the tree-tops; it sounded like an unseen woman turning languidly in bed. Through leaves the sunlight filtered and fell in patches. A sense of possession came upon the boy--it was all his, this early morning world. The puppy kept lagging behind, collapsing on his awkward haunches, and turning his head to gaze back at the house. Teddy became curious to see what he wanted and let him choose the direction. Under a window in the thatch to which the roses climbed, he laid himself down. “So you’re thinking of her, too?” he whispered. They watched together. The sun climbed higher. Inside the farmhouse sounds began to stir. When she appeared at breakfast, she chose to be haughty. After she had stalked away with Fanner Joseph, Mrs. Sarie explained to Teddy his breach of etiquette: he had failed to address her as “Princess.” “She’s full o’ fancies,” said Mrs. Sarie, clearing away the dishes; “full o’ fancies. I’ve ’ad ten children in my time, but not one of ’em like ’er. She won’t let none of us be what we are; she makes us play every day that we’re something different. She’s a captive Princess to-day, and Joseph’s a giant and I’m a giantess.” Peering through the curtain which hung before the window, he saw Desire, seated astride an ancient horse, which plodded round and round in the farmyard drawing water from a well.