nor the baroness deserved any consideration at her hands.

Their unfailing flow of talk shortened the way; and they soon were in
the broad aisle of the wood from which the narrow, thorn-blocked path
led to the knoll. Sir Maurice recognized the path; but he did not take
it. He knew that the Twins were far too capable not to have it
guarded, if the princess were indeed with them. He led the way into
the wood on the right of it, and slowly, clearing the way for her
carefully, seeing to it that she did not get scratched, or her frock
get torn, he brought her in a circuit round to the very back of the
knoll.

They made the passage in silence, careful not to tread on a twig, Sir
Maurice walking a few feet in front, and all the while peering
earnestly ahead through the branches. Now and again a loud yell came
from the knoll; and once a chorus of yells. Finding that her coldness
(the Terror frankly called it sulking) had no effect whatever on her
insensible brother or the insensible princess, Erebus had put it aside;
and the strenuous life was once more in full swing.

Once after an uncommonly shrill and piercing yell Miss Lambart said in
an astonished whisper:

"That was awfully like the princess' voice."

"I thought you said she was delicate," said Sir Maurice.

"So she was," said Miss Lambart firmly.

Thanks to the careful noiselessness of their approach, they came unseen
and unheard to the screen of a clump of hazels at the foot of the
knoll, from which they could see the entrance of five caves in its
face. They waited, watching it.

It was silent; there was no sign of life; and Sir Maurice was beginning
to wonder whether they had, after all, been espied by his keen-eyed
kin, when a little girl, with a great plait of very fair hair hanging
down her back, came swiftly out of one of the bottom caves and slipped
into a clump of bushes to the right of it.

"The princess!" said Miss Lambart; and she was for stepping forward,
but Sir Maurice caught her wrist and checked her.

Almost on the instant an amazingly disheveled Wiggins appeared stealing
in a crouching attitude toward the entrance to the cave.

"That nice little boy, Rupert Carrington," said Sir Maurice.

Wiggins had almost gained the entrance to the cave when, with an
ear-piercing yell, the princess sprang upon him and locked her arms
round his neck; they swayed, yelling in anything but unison, and came
to the ground.

"Delicate to fragility," mut