Louis smiled with a relieved look, and, before leaving the room, bent to whisper in Annie’s ear. The girl smiled gently, but made no other reply; and Mr. Clare noticed that her eyes had a tired look as she raised them to his face.
“I think you struck it that time, sir,” observed Polly to Mr. Clare. “A prince is just what our Louis looks like, and ought to be.”
“He’d better be an honest man; princes are very poor property,” growled the Emperor, with would-be severity.
“He’s more like an angel,” said Miss Sally.
But Louis was no angel, he was only a man; for this was what he had whispered to Annie Rolf.
“I will tell her who painted the beautiful roses, liebes Aenchen.”
CHAPTER IV.
CINDERELLA’S SLIPPERS.
The dinner-wagon which we saw depart from “Prices” had, on its second trip, deposited a tray and a small brown paper parcel at Dr. Richards’s. The tray bore several viands destined to furnish forth a portion of Pinkie’s birthday feast; for Alice often found it convenient to order dishes whose preparation required much time or pains, though not marching with the times to the extent of a whole dinner. The parcel was addressed in Louis’ best hand—which was a very good hand indeed—to “Miss Rosalie Randolph.”
It was a very small parcel indeed, so small that Miss Virginia Dare, Pinkie’s “best friend” and desk-mate, who had come to dine with her, clasped her hands with an instant and disinterested exultation.
“Jewelry, Pinkie!” she exclaimed; “maybe a complete parure! from your father!”