"You know very well, John, that you are not to talk to me in that idiotic way," she said decidedly. "You know that there is no necessity for it as well as I do."
"All right, Miss," he replied, soothingly.
"And you are lying when you say that children come here," she went on, controlling herself with a great effort, "for they do not."
The gardener scratched his head doubtfully and walked away, muttering to himself. The girl turned to Caroline.
"Tell me," she demanded eagerly, her voice low and hurried, "how did you come here? Are you with friends? Where are they? What were you saying to that queen woman?"
"I—I—we were—I was Mary Queen of Scots," Caroline stammered, struggling, as the happy dreamer struggles, not to wake.
The girl started back from her, pale with an emotion that left her handsome face drawn and old.
"Good Heavens!—it can't be—a child! A child!" she cried. Tears stood in her dark eyes.
"How pitiful!" she said, softly, to herself. Then, forcing a smile, she leaned coaxingly over Caroline.
"I am only too delighted to make your Majesty's acquaintance," she said, her voice a little husky, but very sweet. "I have read of you often. But surely your Majesty has not been here long? I do not recall having seen you before to-day."