t's bad ones, or p'raps it's good ones. No, it can't be
bad ones, for then they wouldn't have planned the parrot telling us
about her, so that we could help her to get free. The parrot is a sort
of messenger from the good fairies, I believe.'

He looked up, his eyes very bright and blue, as they always were when he
thought he had made a discovery, or was on the way to one. And I, half
in earnest, half in fun, like I'd been about it all the time, let my
own fancy go on with his.

'Perhaps,' I said. 'We shall find out on Wednesday, I suppose, when we
talk more to Margaret. We needn't call her the invisible princess any
more.'

'No, but she is a princess sort of little girl, isn't she?' he said,
'though her hair isn't as pretty as Blanche's and Elf's, and her face is
very little.'

'She's all right,' I said.

And then we had to hurry and leave off talking, for we had been walking
more slowly than we knew, and just then some big clock struck the
quarter.

I think, perhaps, I had better explain here, that none of us--neither
Margaret, nor Peterkin, nor I--thought we were doing anything the least
wrong in keeping our making acquaintance a secret. What Margaret thought
about it, so far as she did think of that part of it, you will
understand as I go on; and Pete and I had our minds so filled with his
fairies that we simply didn't think of anything else.

It was growing more and more interesting, for Margaret had something
very jolly about her, though she wasn't exactly pretty.

I can't remember if it did come into my mind, a very little, perhaps,
that we should tell somebody--mamma, perhaps, or Clement--about our
visits to Rock Terrace even then. But if it did, I think I put it out
again, by knowing that Margaret meant it to be a secret, and that, till
we saw her again, and heard what she was going to tell us, it would not
be fair to mention anything about it.

We were both very glad that Wednesday was only the day after to-morrow.
It would have been a great nuisance to have had to wait a whole week,
perhaps. And we were very anxious when Wednesday morning came, to see
what sort of weather it was, for on Tuesday it rained. Not very badly,
but enough for nurse to tell Peterkin that it was too showery for him to
come to meet me, and it would not have been much good if he had, as we
couldn't have spoken to Margaret.

Nor could we have strolled up and down the terrace or stood looking at
the parrot, even if he'd been