They had gone but a short distance in the woods when something was heard threshing through the bushes.
"It's he," said Cleo, and she secretly hoped no armed caretaker might appear with the child.
A sudden swish, then from under a tangled elderberry bush there emerged a darling little boy. At the sight of the intruders he stood stock still in evident amazement.
"Oh, I knew you would come!" he exclaimed, clapping his little hands in glee. "I knew my letters would reach you! What are your names, fairies? Please tell me, and are we going right now to Mama?"
"How do you do, little boy," said Cleo. "Are you Royal?"
"Yes, I'm Royal, and I know who you are. I've been expecting you a very long time."
He came forward a little hesitatingly. Grace could not resist rushing up to him and throwing her arms about the pretty child.
"Oh, you perfectly darling little boy," she exclaimed. "We know who you are, for Kitty has told us," and she hugged him quite indecorously for a fairy.
He was so pretty. His light hair cropped at his ears did not succeed in preventing curls to tangle and his blue eyes were roguish as even a baby boy's should be. With these unerring features his color reflected the outdoor treatment, and his little form evinced unmistakably that quality for which we have no better term than "good breeding."
Cleo stooped to pay her homage, and when Grace released Royal she caught him up.