pronounced.

"I should say so," agreed the big boy. "Whose cigarette case is this?"

"Uncle Caspar's--I mean Count Halfont's. He's got another, so he won't
miss this one. I'm going to leave some worms in it when I put it back in
his desk. He'll think the fairies did it. Do you believe in fairies?"

"Certainly, Peter," said Truxton, engaged in impaling a stubborn worm.

"My name isn't Peter," said the Prince coldly.

"I was thinking of Peter Pan. Ever hear of him?"

"No. Say, you mustn't talk or you'll scare 'em away. Is it fixed?" He
took the branch and gingerly dropped the hook into the dancing pool. In
less time than it requires to tell it he had a nibble, a bite and a
catch. There never was a boy so excited as he when the scarlet nibbler
flew into the shrubbery above; he gasped with glee. Truxton recovered
the catch from the bushes and coolly detached the truculent pin.

"I'll have 'em for dinner," announced the Prince.

"Are you going to catch a mess?" queried the man, appalled.

"Sure," said Bobby, casting again with a resolute splash.

"Are you not afraid they'll get onto you if you take them to the
Castle?" asked the other diplomatically. "Goldfish are a dead
give-away."

"Nobody will scold 'cept Uncle Jack, and he won't know about it. He's
prob'ly gone away by this time." King noticed that his lip trembled
suddenly.

"Gone away?"

"Yes. He was banished this morning right after breakfast." The
announcement began with a tremor but ended with imperial firmness.

"Great Scott!" gasped the other, genuinely shocked.

"I banished him," said the Prince ruefully. "But," with a fine smile, "I
don't think he'll go. He never does. See my sign up there?" He pointed
to the rocks near the grotto. "I did it with Hugo's shoe blacking."

A placard containing the important announcement, "NO FISHING ALOUD"
stared down at the poachers from a tree trunk above. There was nothing
very peremptory in its appearance, but its designer was sufficiently
impressed by the craftiness it contained.

"I put it up so's people wouldn't think anybody--not even me--would dare
to fish here. Oh, look!" The second of his ruddy mess was flopping in
the grass. Again Truxton thought of Mr. Hobbs, this time with anxious
glances in all directions.

"Where do they think you are, your Highness?"

"Out walking with my aunt. Only she met Count Vos Engo, and while they
were talking I made a sneak--I mean, I stole away."

"Then they'll be s