"_Et Mademoiselle la gouvernante--_"

"She is looking after the boys, and they are ill," Chris explained
cheerfully. "You might come. I'm wanting someone to talk to rather
badly."

The young officer hesitated. The blue eyes were very persuasive.

"I would ask you to come in to tea afterwards," she said, "only
Mademoiselle is so silly--quite cracked, in fact, on some points. But
that needn't prevent your coming down to the shore for a little to play
with Cinders and me. You will, won't you? Say you will!"

"I will, mademoiselle." His surrender was abrupt, and quite decisive.

She beamed upon him. "We will play at sand-pictures. You know that game,
I expect. One draws and the other has to guess what it's meant for. I
shall look out for you, then. Good-bye!"

She waved a careless hand, and he, still smiling, saluted again and
hastened after his men.

She was certainly unconventional, this English girl, quite superbly so.
She was also sublimely and completely irresistible.

Did she guess of the power that was hers as she turned back into the
little garden? Did some dim suggestion of a spell yet dormant present
itself as she stood thus on the threshold of her woman's kingdom?
Possibly, for her face was thoughtful, and remained so for quite ten
seconds after her new playmate's departure.