He smiled. He knew little about feminine perversity. Picking up a book, he went into the orchard and threw himself down where the brook ran singing to itself. Footsteps! She came walking sedately, pretending that she did not know that he was there. He buried his nose in his book. She went by, waited, came back. He heard a swishing sound behind him and glanced across his shoulder. She was standing with a twig in her hand, her face flushed with anger, striking at some scarlet poppies. “Hulloa! What are you doing?” “They’re people who don’t love me. They’re beasts, and I’m cutting off their heads.” “I wouldn’t do that. They’re so pretty, and they don’t have long to live, anyhow. Besides, you’re making the puppy frightened.” The puppy was escaping, his tail quivering like an eel between his legs. Directly her attention was called to his terror, she threw the stick aside. “Poor old Bones, she didn’t mean to frighten him. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him for the world.” She gathered him into her arms, and sat herself down beside the brook about a yard away from Teddy. “Bones does love me; but some people don’t. We call him Bones ’cause he’s got hardly any flesh.” She glanced shyly at Teddy to see whether he was taking her remarks impersonally or as addressed to himself. He was smiling, so she edged a little nearer and smiled back. “People aren’t kind to Bones,” she said; “they throw things at him. He’s such a coward; people only respect dogs when they bite. You shouldn’t be so nice; you really shouldn’t, Bones.” And then, significantly: “If you’re too nice to strangers at first, you aren’t valued.” Teddy laughed softly. “So that was why you bit me this morning, Princess, after I’d got up so early and waited for you?” She tossed her curls and lowered her eyes. “Did I bite? For the fun of it, I’m always being cross like that. I’m even cross to my mother--my beautiful mother. She’s the darlingest mother in the world.” Teddy closed his book and leant out, bridging the distance. “Is she? Where is she now?” “I don’t know, only--only I know I want her. Don’t get afraid; I never cry. P’raps she’s in America. He says that she’ll come to me here, but I don’t believe him.” Suddenly with a gesture that was all tenderness, she slipped out her hand. “I was so lonely till you came. Together we may find her. I’m going to have a little girl myself one day, and I know I should cry and cry if I lost her.” “You’d have to get married first. When I was very little, I once----” She interrupted. “Oh, no! Ladies don’t have to. When they want babies, they speak to God about it. I know because---- Is your mother married?” “Yes, my mother’s married. My father paints pictures.” “Is it nice to have a father?” “Very nice. Just as nice as to have a mother, only in another way.” “Do--do all boys have fathers?” “Why, yes. And all girls.” “They don’t. I’ve asked my beautiful mother about it so often, because I----”