“Oh, no! She never naps in the daytime.”
“She did to-day,” began Roger, but Philip was already flying upstairs again.
He went softly into the nursery. The baby was still asleep, the figure on the couch still lay quietly beneath the knitted afghan.
Philip went over and stood beside the couch. The face was buried in the pillow, but beneath the edge of the cap he saw some stray golden curls.
“H’m!” he mused, in a low voice, but entirely audible to Patty. “I thought baby May’s nurse had dark hair. She must have bleached it!”
Patty gave no sign that she heard, but cuddled her head more deeply in the soft pillows.
“Why, it isn’t the Fräulein at all!” said Philip, in tones of great surprise. “It’s the Sleeping Beauty!”
Still Patty gave no intimation of being awake, though, of course, she was.
Then Philip leaned down over her and murmured: “And I’m the Prince; and when the Prince finds the Sleeping Beauty, there’s only one course for him to pursue.”
At this, Patty opened her eyes and prepared to spring up, but she was not quite quick enough, and Philip lightly kissed the top of her little pink ear, before she could elude him.