"You will stop to breakfast—"
Gracie caught the suggestion in a moment; interposed eagerly:
"Oh, yes, Prince Charlie! You will! Won't you? Have breakfast with me—out of my own tea service."
"Very well. I'll have a bath, and then come and breakfast with you, Gracie—out of your very own cups and saucers and plates. That's understood."
He went to the bath-room. His matutinal cold water sponge was a thing he would have missed dreadfully. During his absence, the doctor paid an early morning visit.
Masters was pleased when he returned to the sick room to see the happy look on the mother's face. Gracie was out of danger the doctor had said. Was going on splendidly—thanks, she said, to——
"To Prince Charlie, mamma! I heard the doctor say so. He's a fairy prince who comes and saves little girls."
Gracie held Prince Charlie with one hand; her mother's with the other, as she spoke:
"Prince Charlie, I want to kiss you."
He submitted to the wish of the little autocrat. Both her arms went round his neck as she gave him what she called her extra nicest.