"Huh," returned the boy, scornfully. "I'd show yer if I had a chanct."

"But, Bobby, yer'd maybe kill the beautiful princess lady if yer was to
blow up the castle an' every-thin'."

"Aw shucks," returned the boy, shaking off his sister's hand with manly
impatience. "Couldn't I wait 'til she was away somewheres else 'fore I
touched it off? An', anyway, what if yer wonderful princess lady _was_
to git hurt, I guess she's one of 'em, ain't she?"

Poor Maggie, almost in tears, was considering this doubtful reassurance
when Bobby suddenly pointed again toward that pretentious estate on the
hillside, and cried in quick excitement: "Look-ee, Mag, there's a
autermobile a-comin' out from the castle, right now--see? She's a-goin'
down the hill toward town. Who'll yer bet it is? Old Adam Ward
his-self, heh?"

Little Maggie's face brightened joyously. "Maybe it's the princess
lady, Bobby."

"And who is this that you call the princess lady, Maggie?" asked the
Interpreter.

Bobby answered for his sister. "Aw, she means old Adam's daughter.
She's allus a-callin' her that an' a-makin' up stories about her."

"Oh, so you know Miss Helen Ward, too, do you?" The Interpreter was
surprised.

The boy turned his back on the landscape as though it held nothing more