ll dark. We've come to Mentone now. See how pretty
the shops are for Christmas. Can't you stop and have some nice hot
chocolate and cakes with me, and afterwards choose a doll for yourself,
as a Christmas present from your old friend?"

As he put this temptation before her, he slowed down the car in front of
a shop with big glass windows full of sparkling cakes, and ribbon-tied
baskets of crystallized fruits. Through the windows Rosemary could see a
great many well-dressed people sitting at little marble tables, and it
would have been delightful to go in. But she shook her head. The sun
was setting over the sea. The sky was flooded with pink and gold, while
all the air was rosy with a wonderful glow which painted the mountains,
even the dappled-grey plane trees, and the fronts of the gaily decorated
shops.

The donkey women were leading their patient little animals away from the
stand on the sea promenade, up to Sorbio for the night; and their dark
faces under the queer, mushroom hats were ruddy and beautiful in the
rose-light.

"As soon as the sun goes down, it gets dark here," said Rosemary,
regretfully. "Thank you very much, but I'd rather go home now. You see,
I do _so_ want you to be there already, waiting to surprise Angel when
she comes in."

"No time even to buy a doll?"

"I'd rather go home, thank you. Besides, though I should like to have a
new doll, perhaps darling Evie would be sad if I played with another."

Hugh was obediently turning the car's bonnet towards Monte Carlo, and
for the fraction of a second he was foolish enough almost to lose
control of it, on account of a start he gave. "Evie!" he echoed.

It was years since he had spoken that name.

"She's my doll," explained Rosemary.

"Oh!" said Hugh.

"But I don't think she'd mind or be sad if you gave me a doll's house,"
went on the child, "if you _should_ have time to get it for me by and
bye; that is, if you really want to give me something for Christmas, you
know."

"Of course I do. But tell me, why did you name your doll Evie?"

He put the question in a low voice, as if he were half ashamed of asking
it; and as at that instant a tram boomed by, Rosemary heard only the
first words.

"I 'sposed you would," she replied. "Fathers do like to give their
little girls Christmas presents, Jane says; maybe that's why they're
obliged to come back always on Christmas Eve, if they've been lost. Do
you know, even if there aren't any fairies, it'