But for some reason Sally always kept out of sight when the people from the great house were around. And if the Fairy Prince had ever seen her, it would have been such a mere glimpse he had obtained that he surely would never have known her again.
Now in three months more, Belle Virgeen would spread her sails, and away she would glide to another part of the world, and with her would go the Fairy Prince. Then the weak voice mocked her again:
"Eh? eh? eh? And our fair Lady Rosamond, prithee?"
"The Lady Rosamond has money and beauty, friends, fine clothes, and many things to please her," grieved Sally, "what need has she of the Fairy Prince for company? She can read books, ride in the family coach, sit at a fine table; but when the vessel sails away, what other comfort will I find with his voice gone from the arbor, and in all Ingleside I can find him not?"
"There is work to do, learning to get, many things to seek after," cried her good Fairy. "Up and away! Be ashamed to brood and sorrow over what you cannot help. There is much good to be found if you will but search for it."
"Is there?" asked Sally, her eyes no longer drooping, but opening wide.
"Prithee, why not?" questioned the Fairy. "How oft must I tell thee?"
A few nights after this, when July had come, and the black people, bare-footed, bare-armed, dressed in but one or two cotton garments, went sluggishly about their work, when gauzy-winged creatures droned midst clumps of sweet flowers and heavy garden scents, when rich blossoms hung in trailing abundance and the paths were carpeted with wild flowers, when birds sang far into the twilight, Maid Sally more slowly than usual went over to her rocky seat.
Some one was asleep in the arbor, for she could hear the hard breathing of one in slumber. Then a book fell to the floor. Soon there was a turning of leaves, and soon again some one else entered the arbor.
"Ah, Rosamond," began a voice well known, "had you come a moment sooner, a drowsy lord you would have found."