I sauntered then to her side, and gazed at her moodily. If she saw me she gave no sign.
In spite of myself I grew interested in the way she manipulated those boat petals. Evidently there was some system in her game but it was new to me.
"That little black seed on this boat is Jason," she said at last, without looking up, "and these little white seeds are his comrades. They're searching for The Golden Fleece. My hair is the Fleece. Come and play!"
Mutely I squatted beside her, and our two faces peered at each other in the mirror of the pool.
She gave a funny eager little laugh.
"Oh," she cried, "we match beautifully, don't we? Your hair is yellow and my hair is yellow, my eyes are blue and your eyes are blue."
"My eyes are grey, like father's," I objected.
"No, they're blue like mine. We match beautifully. Let's play something else." Before I could prevent her, she had swept Jason and his crew away, and, snatching the doll from the perambulator, had set it on the fountain's edge between us.
"This is Dorothea," she announced, "isn't she sweet? I'm her mother. You should be the father, and Dorothea should want to paddle her toes in the fountain. Now you hold her—so."
Before I was aware of it I was made to grasp the puppet by the waist, while her mistress began to rearrange the pillows in the "pram."