“Don't buy it!” was Her Majesty's edict as she looked down, with a lofty scorn that seemed curiously mixed with tender interest, on the ragged creature at her feet.
But this time I turned rebel, and ignored the royal commands. Such lovely flowers, and of forms so entirely new to me, were not to be abandoned at the bidding of any little maid, however imperious. I bought the bouquet: and the little boy, after popping the halfpenny into his mouth, turned head-over-heels, as if to ascertain whether the human mouth is really adapted to serve as a money-box.
With wonder, that increased every moment, I turned over the flowers, and examined them one by one: there was not a single one among them that I could remember having ever seen before. At last I turned to the nursemaid. “Do these flowers grow wild about here? I never saw—” but the speech died away on my lips. The nursemaid had vanished!
“You can put me down, now, if you like,” Sylvie quietly remarked.
I obeyed in silence, and could only ask myself “Is this a dream?”, on finding Sylvie and Bruno walking one on either side of me, and clinging to my hands with the ready confidence of childhood.
“You're larger than when I saw you last!” I began. “Really I think we ought to be introduced again! There's so much of you that I never met before, you know.”
“Very well!” Sylvie merrily replied. “This is Bruno. It doesn't take long. He's only got one name!”
“There's another name to me!” Bruno protested, with a reproachful look at the Mistress of the Ceremonies. “And it's—' Esquire'!”
“Oh, of course. I forgot,” said Sylvie. “Bruno—Esquire!”
“And did you come here to meet me, my children?” I enquired.