Behind his clump of shrubbery, Adam Ward, crouching like some stealthy
creature of the jungle, watched and listened.

From the shelter of the arbor, Adam Ward's daughter looked upon the
scene with white-faced interest.

"Gee," said Bobby, "some place, I'd say!"

"Ain't it pretty?" murmured little Maggie. "Just like them places where
the fairies live."

"Huh," returned the boy, "old Adam Ward, he ain't no fairy I'm
a-tellin' yer."

To which Maggie, hurt by this suggested break in the spell of her
enchantment, returned indignantly, "Well, I guess the fairies can live
in all them there pretty flowers an' things just the same, if old Adam
does own 'em. You can't shut fairies out with no big iron fences."

"That's so," admitted Bobby. "Gee, I wisht we was fairies, so's we
could sneak in! Gee, wouldn't yer like ter take a roll on that there
grass?"

"Huh," returned the little girl, "I know what I'd do if I was a fairy.
I'd hide in that there bunch of flowers over there, an' I'd watch till
the beautiful princess lady with the kind heart come along, an' I'd
tell her where she could find them there jewels of happiness what the
Interpreter told us about."