Captain, meekly. "And I'm sorry I hain't--I mean I _ain't_--got no
fretted palace for my princess to live in. This is a poor place for
golden lasses and velvet trains."

"It _isn't_!" cried the child, her face flashing into sudden anger,
and stamping her foot. "You sha'n't call it a poor place, Daddy! It's
wicked of you. And I wouldn't live in a palace if there were _fifty_
of them all set in a row. So there now!" She folded her arms and
looked defiantly at the old man, who returned her gaze placidly, and
continued to puff at his pipe, until he was seized in a penitent
embrace, hugged, and kissed, and scolded, and wept over, all at once.

The brief tempest over, the child seated herself comfortably on his
knee, and said, "Now, Daddy, I want a story."

"Story before supper?" asked the Captain, meekly, looking at the
saucepan, which was fairly lifting its lid in its eagerness to be
attended to. A fresh access of remorseful hugging followed.

"You poor darling!" said Star; "I forgot all about supper. And it's
stewed kidneys, too! But oh! my dress!" and she glanced down at her
velvet splendour. "I must go and take it off," she said, sadly.

"Not you, Honeysuckle," said the old man, rising and setting the child
down carefully in the chair. "Sit you there, and be a real princess,
and I will be your steward, and get supper this time. I like to see
you in your fine clothes, and 'twould be a shame to take 'em off so
soon."

She clapped her hands again, and settling herself cosily in the great