"I unintentionally played eavesdropper," he said humbly, handing her the
rose. "I was lying in wait to decorate you."

"It is wonderful," she exclaimed. "I think it is the wonderfulest rose
that any little girl ever had for a magic gift." She held it for a
moment, softly against her cheek.

He bent forward. "Cara!" he whispered. No answer. "Cara!" he repeated.

"Yeth, thir," she lisped in a whimsical little-girl voice, looking up
with a smile stolen from a fairy-tale.

"I am just lending you that rose. I had meant to give it to you, but
_now_ I want it back--when you are through with it. May I have it?"

She held it out teasingly. "Do you want it now--Indian-giver?" she
demanded.

"You know I don't," in an injured tone.

"I'm glad, because you couldn't have it--yet." And she was gone, leaving
him to make his appearance from the direction of his own apartments.




CHAPTER III

THE MOON OVERHEARS