"Riggs," he said gravely, "if you're aiming to succeed as a magazine writer, you're beginning well; if it's your ambition to succeed in this business, and succeed right here, you're beginning badly. You were keen enough to get this place. If you talk much this way, you won't keep it long--you can take it from me. Let's come in to lunch." Their tread on the arbor floor roused the sleeping conspirator; she sat up, rubbing her eyes half afraid that the clipped terraces, the floating, flag, the inhabited castle, were only parts of her dream. But even as she peered around the arbor, Joan of Arc rushed toward her. She wore a black shade hat and carried a fluffy black parasol under her arm. "Be careful!" she panted. "We can't go yet--I was stopped. I had to talk. You say yes to whatever I say, will you? Then you can escape with me--" she smiled sweetly at Caroline--"a real escape, as they do in story books! Won't that be fine?" Her hand was at her heart again; a red circle burned in either cheek. Caroline nodded eagerly. "That will be grand!" she said. She had forgotten till that moment that she wanted to escape. "Ah, Miss Aitken! Late for lunch again!" Caroline started guiltily, for it was the voice of Bluelegs. Joan threw her arm over Caroline's shoulder carelessly. "Yes, Dr. Ferris, I'm afraid I am," she said. "I was delayed by this little visitor." He looked suspiciously at them. "Who is she?" he asked. "I don't know." Joan led Caroline along quickly. "She _says_ she is Mary Queen of Scots." He stared blankly. "I found her conversing with Marie Antoinette," she went on easily, "and she seems to have slipped in with an automobile party--was there one? Children are so secretive, you know. She is trying to get out, but she says all the gates are locked." "Oh, yes, that was the Dahls--they came to see Frederick," he explained. "I see. You were left with the chauffeur, Mademoiselle, and it's easy to imagine the rest," he added with a smile. He had a very attractive smile, and Caroline slipped her hand into his offered one readily. "You are fond of children?" said Joan, abruptly. "Very," he answered simply. "Why not! And they are fond of me, as you see. My dear young lady, did you think we are all brutes because we must obey orders?" She set her teeth and walked swiftly forward. "I know you think us cruel," he went on frankly, "because we can not do for you the one thing that you want; but, except for that, have you anything to complain of?" She smiled scornfully. "'Except for that'?" she echoed, "no, Dr. Ferris, nothing in the world--but 'that'!" "And you must remember," he continued, in his pleasant, soothing voice, "that it may not be for long, after all. If you continue to improve as you have--" She flung away impatiently. "Oh, yes, you have improved, you know; you eat better, you sleep better, your nerves are quieter. We get good reports of you. Many are ill longer than you. Do you like the new masseuse?" She did not answer.