Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name."

I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but
it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray
stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it
appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her
friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from
Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential
enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as
about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a
peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the
sympathetic Miss Persis.

One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite
breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down
on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless
emotion.

"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad
news?"

Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed!
Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present.
Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron
waits for us!"

It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I
flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry.
My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not
the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be