looking about cautiously, as if to assure himself that he was alone.
The shadow of a smile vanished from Helen's face as she watched in
wondering fear.

Stooping low, Adam Ward crept swiftly to a clump of bushes near the
spot from which the sound of the voices came. Crouching behind the
shrubbery, he silently parted the branches and peered through. Bobby
and Maggie Whaley stood on the outer side of the fence with their
little faces thrust between the iron pickets, looking in.


Still in the glow of their wonderful experience at the Interpreter's
hut and the magnificent climax of that day's adventure, the children
had determined to go yet farther afield. It was true that their father
had threatened dire results if they should continue the acquaintance
begun at the foot of the Interpreter's zigzag stairway, but, sufficient
unto the day.--They would visit the great castle on the hill where
their beautiful princess lady lived. And, who could tell, perhaps they
might see her once more. Perhaps--"But that," said tiny Maggie, "was
too wonderful ever to happen again."

The way had been rather long for bare little feet. But excited hope had
strengthened them. And so they had climbed the hill, and had come at
last to the iron fence through which they could see the world of bright
flowers and clean grass and shady trees, and, in the midst of it all,
the big house. With their hungry little faces thrust between the strong
iron pickets, Sam Whaley's children feasted their eyes on the beauties
of Adam Ward's possessions. Even Bobby, in his rapture over the
loveliness of the scene, forgot for the moment his desire to blow up
the castle, with its owner and all.