| OCR Text |
Show . uminimfirJ:"HANK-".«WW PRINCESS MARY‘S GIFT BOOK 122 THE ESCAPE " Never heard such nonsense in the whole course of my life," she declared, using a grown-up remark. " It‘s perfect rubbish. Do you mean to say that I shall have to go to concerts and sing as mamma A GIRL‘S STORY FROM CALL/INT BELGIUM does ? " " That's the idea. I believe." " But 1 can‘t sing. BY ANNIE S. SWAN I cant sing nearly well enough to earn I'J'ml‘ingx by HAROLD lCARNSllA‘V money." 5 \Vell," said her father, alter considering the matter, " what about going out as eharwoman ? your lunch." You'd get two shillings a day and NOT a sound broke the exquisite hush of the early morning. She stood there for a few minutes, not daring to speak, and over- The old courtyard, with its tiled pavement, Some one touched her on the its cool fountain, and its cooing doves, the dog come with cares and responsibilities. shoulder, and she looked up. " Good fairy I" she cried. " Do you like the altogether different you asked for? " " No," she answered, "I don't like it at all. 1 wish now I hadn't put back the hands of the clock." " You mean to say that that was how you did it? You dare to tell me it was nothing cleverer than that? Now, just to punish you," said the fairy, speaking with stern decision, " I shall send you away to the old sort of world, and you'll simply have to make the best of it." The bedroom door opened, and nurse came in. The little girl, snuggling down into her warm. comfortable bed, kept her eyes shut. " Bless her i " said nurse to herself. " Sleeping as sound as a top. That‘s what comes of having nothing on your mind to worry you l" asleep in the sunshine, made a picture of perfect peace. The house, once the Chateau of a great family that had fallen on evil days, was grey and old, and beautiful still, though now merely mm pension tic (loll/()I'SU/lcs'. It was August, when, as a rule, all the merry throng had scattered from the Chateau to their respective homes, leaving it to its former dignity and quiet. Mademoiselle usually went to England, perhaps seeking fresh pupils, or to enjoy the sea breezes on the Normandy coast. La Royat, in the village of Coutane. was inland from the sea, about fifteen miles from Brussels. It was a sweet spot, beloved of the understanding traveller, and many came to look at the fine old church, whose spire and windows were among,r the treasures known to lovers of the beautiful all over the world. Mademoiselle Ledru had nothing to complain of in her lot, with which she had been hitherto content. Success had flowed in upon her earliest efforts, though looking at her anxious face that summer morning one would have thought her oppressed by care. She was an elderly woman now, with the remains of beauty still on her face. The place where she stood that morning, before her household was astir, was certainly unusual, being the square tower of the Chateau, from whose low ramparts she was sweeping the horizon with a powerful glass. It was all very peaceful and beautiful, a wide rolling plateau, with fields white to harvest, not a hint of approaching desolation on its smiling face. It was very early, hardly an hour past daybreak, but already some of the thrifty peasants were busy in the fields. Far away on the red horizon there was a slight haze, regarding which Mademoiselle seemed more than a little curious. Again and again she focused her glass, until confident that; the haze was not altogether stationary, but moved and 123 » |
