except against the hill behind the statue, and it was cool and restful.
They had not been there five minutes before the feet of a runner sounded loud on the gravel. A shadow, very black and distinct, fell on the white marble floor.
"Your shadow's not invisible, anyhow," said Jimmy.
"Oh, bother my shadow!" the voice of the Princess replied. "We left the key inside the door, and it's shut itself with the wind, and it's a spring lock!"
There was a heartfelt pause.
Then Gerald said, in his most business-like manner:
"Sit down, Princess, and we'll have a thorough good palaver about it."
"I shouldn't wonder," said Jimmy, "if we was to wake up and find it was dreams."
"No such luck," said the voice.
"Well," said Gerald, "first of all, what's your name, and if you're not a Princess, who are you?"
"I'm—I'm," said a voice broken with sobs, "I'm the—housekeeper's—niece—at—the—castle—and my name's Mabel Prowse."
"That's exactly what I thought," said Jimmy, without a shadow of truth, because how could he? The others were silent. It was a moment full of agitation and confused ideas.
"Well, anyhow," said Gerald, "you belong here."
"Yes," said the voice, and it came from
