And the brown eyes saw a broad-shouldered lad, lean of limb and face, with pointed nose, high cheek-bones, laughing mouth, and grey eyes, which made her own rosy cheeks dimple in amusement.
"Ah, I thank you," cried the Brown Fairy, dropping the demurest of curtsies; "I cried for my ball."
"Fie!" he laughed; "you are no baby. See! I mean to give you the ball myself, and you shall give me something too."
She watched him breathlessly, as he clambered down the old, gnarled medlar-tree which grew against the wall, and clapped her hands when he offered her the ball with the grandest and most courtly of bows.
"I like you, boy," she said. "You shall stay here and play ball with me."
"With pleasure, little mistress," he made gay answer. "But you must give me a kiss first for bringing you your plaything."
At this, child though she was, she made a fine show of indignation.
"I am no village wench to be kissed at will, sir," she declared, with a faintly foreign accent which was very fascinating. "I am Gabrielle de Varenac Conyers, and one day I shall be a grand lady."
And she nodded her brown curls at him.
"Gabrielle? 'tis a nice name," responded Michael critically, "and you are a very pretty Gabrielle. So instead of being a grand lady you shall be my little sweetheart, and one day we will be married, and I will love you and share all that I have. So kiss me now, Gabrielle, and promise."