imagination. She felt an instant response to this personality.

"I am a princess, the Princess Cecilia," she answered promptly.

"Ah," the old lady straightened up and a sudden, vivid change became at
once manifest in her manner. "Draw closer to me."

Suzanna obeyed, moving till she touched the old lady's hand that rested
on the wings of the old-fashioned chair.

"You should be a princess," said the old lady, "for I am a queen!"

Suzanna gazed without at first speaking. "A real one?" she whispered at
last.

"A real queen," returned the old lady. "It's not generally known by
those who serve me, nor even suspected by my own son who lives yonder in
the big house on the hill. But I'm the real queen of Spain, deposed from
the hearts of her people, from the hearts of her own nearest."

Suzanna nodded. She looked over toward the hill. "That's Bartlett
Villa," she said; "the people only live there part of the year. I know
Mrs. Bartlett, she's the richest lady in Anchorville, but I didn't know
her mother was a queen."

The old lady didn't appear to be particularly interested. She went on:
"It's not generally known, I believe, that I am a queen." After another
pause: "Over yonder is a camp chair. Bring it hither."

Suzanna found the chair at one end of the garden. Quickly she brought it