They were beautiful white birds of spotless plumage, probably driven from the lake of Willey, or from further off, by the cruelty of their parents. For old swans become terribly fierce as the nesting season comes on, and will not even allow the offspring of a past spring to remain on their own waters. "How lovely they are," said Bess, enthusiastically. "It is a real fairy-story, mamsie, this time." [Sidenote: MOUSE FEEDS ON BREAD] Then we returned to the Abbey, and brought out a basket of broken scraps. Bess threw some pieces into the water, and the swans stooped down their beautiful graceful necks and fed with avidity. Bess watched them intently, whilst Mouse, who had followed us too, looked on superciliously; and then, with great greediness, ate all the bread that she could reach, so that, as Bess said, "too much food should not be wasted on mere swans." "Isn't she greedy?" cried Bess. "At home she hardly eats even cake!" Poor old Mouse! She is made up of unamiable vices, excepting to us. Then Nana appeared, and declared crossly that my little girl would catch her death of cold standing on the damp grass by the water. Bess fired up at this and retorted, "As if, Nana, people ever catch cold when they watch swans. Why, my mother watches birds hundreds of hours, and she never catches cold." But, in spite of Bess's protestations, my little maid was carried off by Nan, who, I heard, afterwards went off to the post-office to get a postal order. When Bess returned from her short turn, I noticed that she was grave and silent, and not at all the usual bouncing Bess of Wenlock, as we are wont to call her. I mentioned that I was going for a longer walk, in search of white violets, and begged her to come with me, if she was not too tired, and bring a basket in case we found any. At first I thought Bess's reluctance sprang from the fact that Prince Charming would have to be left at the Abbey, although I assured her that Auguste would fully console the Prince for our absence; but say what I would, Bess seemed out of spirits. And so, before we started, I sat down on a bench and asked my little girl, who looked worried, if she was not feeling well. "Yes," answered Bess, "only, only----" And then I found out the truth. "When Nan and I were walking in the town," Bess explained, "Mr. James, Hals' father's coachman, came into the chemist's shop and told us that Fräulein was dreadful bad, tumbled down and broke her leg, he said. He laughed and said it was a judgment for being _that nasty_ to Master Harry. But oh, mama, could it--could it really be?"