It all went right for once. Nurse was more busy than usual about all the things she had bought for us at Welford, and very glad to get rid of us as soon as we had had our dinner. For, happily, she had no trying-on to do to-day.

"You may have a good long afternoon in the garden," she said. "I must say you're wonderful good children for amusing yourselves. There's never any tease-teasing, like with some I've known--'What shall we do, nurse?'

or, 'We've nothing to play at.' And you're getting very good, too, about never getting into mischief. You're _much_ better, Miss Gussie, than you were last year at Ansdell: for it was you as was the ringleader."

"Yes," said I, not very much ashamed of the distinction. "Do you remember the day I took grandpapa's new railway rug to make a carpet to our tent, and left it out all night, and it rained and all the colour ran? And do you remember when I pushed Gerald into the pond to catch the little fishes, and how he stood shivering and crying?"

"Ah, yes, indeed," said nurse. "But speaking of ponds--the one at Ansdell was nothing; but those nasty pits or pools in the fields near by: you never go near them? Your grandpapa has a real fear of them, and he told me not to let you forget what he'd said."

"No fear," we all answered, "we never go near them. We promised him we wouldn't, nurse."

Then off we ran.

"Even if she isn't there, she's sure to have left some message for us, like the last time," said Gerald as we ran. "I wish she'd bring us some b.u.t.ter-scotch."

"_Gerald!_" exclaimed Tib and I, "what sort of ideas have you? Fairies and b.u.t.ter-scotch mixed in the same breath. I only hope," Tib went on, "that she won't think we're ungrateful for the books, or that we don't care for them, because we had to leave them in the conservatory."

"If only she's there, we can explain everything," said I.

And she _was_ there.

Not waiting in the saloon this time, but running down the long pa.s.sage to meet us as soon as she heard our steps, looking prettier, and merrier, and sweeter than ever. _Dear_ Regina!

I have never minded her teasing since that first day, when I really didn't understand her. I shall never mind it again, I am sure.

She led us into the big drawing-room, where she had prepared another little surprise for us. She was as pleased about it as we were ourselves. It was more of Gerald's kind of treat this time--not b.u.t.ter-scotch, but fruit--grapes, and beautiful little Tangiers oranges, and little cakes and biscuits of ever so many kinds. They were so nice, and we ate such a lot of them, and Regina ate a good many herself.

"You see, though I am a fairy, I like nice things," she said.

"Do you have afternoon luncheon every day?" asked Gerald. "Oh, how I would like to be you."

"_Isn't_ he a greedy boy?" I said; and then I told her about the b.u.t.ter-scotch, and somehow the b.u.t.ter-scotch led to our talking of grandpapa--you remember about Gerald wishing he'd bring us some--and then we all got rather grave, for we had a great deal to tell our new princess, and to ask her.

We sat together in a little group on one of the arm-chairs, and Regina listened to us very attentively. We told her all that grandpapa had said to us before we came to Rosebuds, and all about the book in the library in London, and how we wanted to love grandpapa better, as Mrs. Munt had told us we should, but that it was rather difficult. We told her all we had told Mr. Truro, only more, for we had to tell her all about him as well. And then we asked her if she thought it was disobeying grandpapa for us to come to see her; and when we had told her all we could think of, we waited very anxiously to hear what she would say. Her face looked grave, though not exactly sad.

"Your friend--Mr. Truro--told you to wait till he came back again?" she said.

"Yes, but that was only about coming in here to play. We hadn't seen you then--and grandpapa told us not to make friends with any of the neighbours. Are you a neighbour? Do you live here?"

"No," said Regina. "I live far from here."

"And how can you come so often to see us, then?" we asked.

She smiled.

"Can't you fancy I come on a sunbeam, or a cloud, or on a broomstick if you like? Or if I had only thought of taking the picture away, you might really have thought I had come out of the frame! No children, I'm not going to tell you where I come from, or how I come, or _anything_. Then you can feel you're not hearing from me anything your grandfather would not wish you to hear, and when he and Mr. Truro come here again, you can tell them all--everything, and see what they say. You can bring Mr.

Truro here to see me, if you like, and we'll talk it over. Now, as who knows how seldom we may see each other again, suppose we make the best use of our time. I've got some games to teach you--new games. Let us be as happy and merry as we can be while we _are_ together."

And you cannot fancy what fun we had.

She kept us playing, and guessing tricks and riddles, and even singing little glees--she had such a pretty voice--so busily that we hadn't time to ask her any more questions, and indeed forgot to do so. So that when it grew late and we had to go home, and Regina kissed us and said good-bye, we knew as little about her, or where she had come from or was going to, as if she had really flown down to us from some fairy country invisible to mortal eyes.

"And will you come again soon?" we asked.

"Whenever I can, but that is all I can promise," she said, and then she disappeared behind the heavy doors, and we heard the key turn in the lock on the other side.

And we went home, wishing it were to-morrow.

"No, not to-morrow--she's sure not to come so soon again, but, all the same, we must come and see."

CHAPTER X.

THREE STARLINGS.

"'I can't get out; I can't get out,' said the starling.

'G.o.d help thee,' said I; 'but I'll let thee out.'"

_Sentimental Journey._

She didn't come the next day, but instead of her we actually found three little packets of b.u.t.ter-scotch tied up in white paper, with a different coloured ribbon on each: mine was pink, and Tib's blue, and Gerald's green. I think nothing that had happened to us pleased Gerald as much as this, though he couldn't pretend to think it had come from Fairyland.

And two days after that, the girl herself came again, and we had another merry afternoon of games and fun. How we laughed! there never was any one as clever as our new princess at games. And when we were all too tired and hot to play any more, she told us to sit down quietly to rest, and to shut our eyes, and pretend to go to sleep for five minutes. And when we did so we heard a little faint rustling, and if we had not promised I am sure we should have opened our eyes, we were so afraid she was tricking us, and running away without saying good-bye.

But in a minute we heard the rustling again.

"Open your eyes," said her voice, and when we opened them, lo and behold! there was a gla.s.s jug filled with lemonade--it was so good--and four little tumblers, and sponge cakes. The tumblers were red and of a queer shape, and so was the big jug.

"These might have come from Fairyland," I said. "You know, Regina"--for she would make us call her so--"Gerald won't give up about you being a fairy; only when it came to packets of b.u.t.ter-scotch----"

"Even he couldn't believe there were b.u.t.ter-scotch manufactories in Fairyland," said she, laughing. And then we all laughed just because we were so happy.

"We've never laughed so much in our lives before, I don't think," said Tib.

"Poor little pets," said Regina, "it won't do you any harm. It should do the old house good too--it's many a long day since it heard any merry voices."

"The old house," said I; "what do you mean?"

"Why, the old house we're in--the place where you are. Where do you suppose yourself to be at this moment?" she asked, seeing I looked more and more puzzled.

"I don't know," I said. "We thought it was perhaps just this room, or else that it was a sort of a palace. We never thought of it as a regular house."

"A pavilion of some kind, I suppose you mean," said she.

"Why do you call it the _old house_? Is it very old?" asked Tib.

"Yes," said Regina, "it is. It has got into being called the old house because it is the oldest anywhere about, I suppose. And then, you see, when people haven't lived in a place for very, very long, they get into that way of speaking of it--out of a sort of affection--just as one speaks of the old days, you know, when one speaks of long ago."