tors and wait for the queens to appear and get into their
carriage. The young Queen's looks were stamped in Boyne's consciousness,
so that he saw her wherever he turned, like the sun when one has gazed
at it. He thought how that Trannel had said he ought to hand her into
her carriage, and he shrank away for fear he should try to do so, but he
could not leave the place till she had come out with the queen--mother
and driven off. Then he went slowly and breathlessly into the hotel,
feeling the Queen's miniature in his pocket. It made his heart stand
still, and then bound forward. He wondered again what he should do with
it. If he kept it, Lottie would be sure to find it, and he could not
bring himself to the sacrilege of destroying it. He thought he would
walk out on the breakwater as far as he could and throw it into the sea,
but when he got to the end of the mole he could not do so. He decided
that he would give it to Ellen to keep for him, and not let Lottie see
it; or perhaps he might pretend he had bought it for her. He could not
do that, though, for it would not be true, and if he did he could not
ask her to keep it from Lottie.

At dinner Mr. Trannel told him he ought to have been there to see the
Queen; that she had asked especially for him, and wanted to know if they
had not sent up her card to him. Boyne meditated an apt answer through
all the courses, but he had not thought of one when they had come to
the 'corbeille de fruits', and he was forced to go to bed without having
avenged himself.

In taking rooms for her family at the hotel, Lottie had arranged for her
emancipation from the thraldom of rooming with Ellen. She said that had
gone on long enough; if she was grown up at all, she was grown up enough
to have a room of her own, and her mother had yielded to reasoning which
began and ended with this position. She would have interfered so far as
to put Lottie into the room next her, but Lottie said that if Boyne was
the baby he ought to be next his mother; Ellen might come next him, but
she was going to have the room that was furthest from any implication
of the dependence in which she had languished; and her mother submitted
again. Boyne was not sorry; there had always been hours of the night
when he felt the need of getting at his mother for reassurance as to
forebodings which his fancy conjured up to trouble him in the wakeful
dark. It was understood that he might freely do this, and though the
judge inwa