"Ah, Miss Aitken! Late for lunch again!"
Caroline started guiltily, for it was the voice of Bluelegs.
Joan threw her arm over Caroline's shoulder carelessly.
"Yes, Dr. Ferris, I'm afraid I am," she said. "I was delayed by this
little visitor."
He looked suspiciously at them. "Who is she?" he asked.
"I don't know." Joan led Caroline along quickly. "She _says_ she is
Mary Queen of Scots."
He stared blankly.
"I found her conversing with Marie Antoinette," she went on easily,
"and she seems to have slipped in with an automobile party--was
there one? Children are so secretive, you know. She is trying to get
out, but she says all the gates are locked."
"Oh, yes, that was the Dahls--they came to see Frederick," he
explained.
"I see. You were left with the chauffeur, Mademoiselle, and it's
easy to imagine the rest," he added with a smile. He had a very
attractive smile, and Caroline slipped her hand into his offered one
readily.
"You are fond of children?" said Joan, abruptly.
"Very," he answered simply. "Why not! And they are fond of me, as
you see. My dear young lady, did you think we are all brutes because
we must obey orders?"
She set her teeth and walked swiftly forward.
"I know you think us cruel," he went on frankly, "because we can not
do for you the one thing that you want; but, except for that, have
you anything to complain of?"
She smiled scornfully.
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