"Creeper Cottage is it? I didn't know it had a name. Do you have so many earwigs?" "How did you know we were in Symford?" "Why everybody knows that." Priscilla was silent. Again she felt she was being awakened from a dream. "I've met quite a lot of interesting people since I saw you last," he said. "At least, they interested me because they all knew you." "Knew me?" "Knew you and that old scound--the excellent Fritzing. There's an extremely pleasant policeman, for instance, in Kunitz--" "Oh," said Priscilla, starting and turning red. She could not think of that policeman without crisping her fingers. "He and I are intimate friends. And there's a most intelligent person--really a most helpful, obliging person--who came with you from Dover to Ullerton." "With us?" "I found the conversation, too, of the ostler at the Ullerton Arms of immense interest." "But what--" "And last night I slept at Baker's Farm, and spent a very pleasant evening with Mrs. Pearce." "But why--" "She's an instructive woman. Her weakest point, I should say, is her junkets." "I wonder why you bother to talk like this--to be sarcastic." "About the junkets? Didn't you think they were bad?" "Do you suppose it's worth while to--to kick somebody who's down? And so low down? So completely got to the bottom?" "Kick? On my soul I assure you that the very last thing I want to do is to kick you." "Then why do you do it?" "I don't do it. Do you know what I've come for?" "Is my father round the corner?" "Nobody's round the corner. I've muzzled your father. I've come quite by myself. And do you know why?" "No," said Priscilla, shortly, defiantly; adding before he could speak, "I can't imagine." And adding to that, again before he could speak, "Unless it's for the fun of hunting down a defenceless quarry." "I say, that's rather picturesque," said the Prince with every appearance of being struck. Priscilla blushed. In spite of herself every word they said to each other made her feel more natural, farther away from self-torment and sordid fears, nearer to that healthy state of mind, swamped out of her lately, when petulance comes more easily than meekness. The mere presence of the Prince seemed to set things right, to raise her again in her own esteem. There was undoubtedly something wholesome about the man, something everyday and reassuring, something dependable and sane. The first smile for I don't know how long came and cheered the corners of her mouth. "I'm afraid I've grown magniloquent since--since--" "Since you ran away?" She nodded. "Fritzing, you know, is most persistently picturesque. I think it's catching. But he's wonderful," she added quickly,--"most wonderful in patience and goodness." "Oh everybody knows he's wonderful. Where is the great man?" "In the next room. Do you want him?" "Good Lord, no. You've not told me what you suppose I've come for." "I did. I told you I couldn't imagine." "It's for a most saintly, really nice reason. Guess."