He found the Princess; there was no sign
of the girl. The Princess was tall and dignified, with a cold little
hand and a smooth, sweet voice. There was no frank smile in her eyes,
neither were there any mischievous crinkles about her nose and lips.
There was no mention of towers or flags; no reference to wavings or to
childhood's days. There was only a stiffly polite little conversation
about colleges and travels, with a word or two about books and plays.
Then the callers went home. On the way the boy smiled scornfully to
himself. He was trying to picture the beauteous vision he had seen,
this unapproachable Princess in her filmy lace gown,--standing in the
tower window and waving--waving to a bit of a house on the opposite
hill. As if that could happen!

"The boy, during those last three years, had known only books. He knew
little of girls--only one girl--and he knew still less of Princesses.
So when, three days after the call, there came a chance to join a
summer camp with a man who loved books even better than did the boy
himself, he went gladly. Once he had refused to go on this very trip;
but then there had been the girl. Now there was only the Princess--and
the Princess didn't count."

"Like the hours that aren't sunshiny," interpreted David.

"Yes," corroborated Mr. Jack. "Like the hours when the sun does n't
shine."

"And then?" prompted Jill.

"Well, then,--there wasn't much worth telling," rejoined Mr. Jack
gloomily. "Two more years passed, and the Princess grew to be
twenty-one. She came into full control of her property then, and after
a while she came back to the old stone house with the towers and turned
it into a fairyland of beauty. She spent money like water. All manner
of artists, from the man who painted her ceilings to the man who
planted her seeds, came and bowed to her will. From the four corners of
the earth she brought her treasures and lavished them through the house
and grounds. Then, every summer, she came herself, and lived among
them, a very Princess indeed."

"And the boy?--what became of the boy?" demanded David. "Didn't he see
her--ever?"

Mr. Jack shook his head.

"Not often, David; and when he did, it did not make him any--happier.
You see, the boy had become the Pauper; you must n't forget that."

"But he wasn't a Pauper when you left him last."

"Wasn't he? Well, then, I'll tell you about that. You see, the boy,
even though he did go away, soon found out that in his hear