"Oh, Prin, do tell me what is the matter? What has brought you here like this? I can see that you are in great trouble."
The colour leaped into her face.
"Now don't begin asking me questions," she cried, with a return to her usual manner; "can't you see that I am tired to death, and only want to be left alone? Make haste and put the room straight, so that I can go to bed."
Bert's glance lingered on her for a moment ere he obeyed her. He noted that Prin looked both ill and weary, and that her appearance was less clean and tidy by far than when he last saw her. Her nice frock was torn and stained with mud, and her boots were very dirty, though there was little dirt on the London roads in this hot weather.
Bert marvelled at what he saw, but he did not venture to ask another question just then. He hastened to dust the room, setting to work with a damp cloth, as he had seen the old sailor do. Working with all his heart in his desire to make the room fit for Prin, he soon succeeded in rendering it fairly habitable.
Prin said nothing as he performed his task. She hardly seemed aware of what he was doing. But when he moved towards the door, intending to run out and buy something nice for Prin's supper, she suddenly spoke,—
"Where are you going, Bert? Don't leave me. I can't bear to be left alone!"
"Why, Prin," exclaimed Bert, in surprise, "I was only going out to get you some supper. You'd like something to eat, wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, to be sure," she replied, with a sob in her voice, "I want food. I have not eaten anything to-day. But don't be long."
Promising to make great haste, Bert sped on his way. His heart was filled with distress and fear, yet mingling with these feelings was a certain sweet content. Whatever had happened, one thing was clear: the Princess wanted him now.