Margaret took a step forward, when her shadow—that very same shadow she had been vainly pursuing all morning—her shadow fell on the rock at the little man's feet. He looked up, and instantly his whole manner changed. He stopped ringing his bell, and clapping his heels together he made a bow so low that the red tassel on his hat swept the ground.
"If your Royal Highness is ready—" he began, when Margaret interrupted him.
"My—my what, did you say?" she asked. "I didn't quite understand. My sister, do you mean? I'll call her."
Turning to do so, she found that Frances, whom she had left asleep under the trees, was standing close beside her holding her hand—and the curious thing about it was that she was not in the least surprised.
"Isn't he pretty!" whispered Frances. "What red cheeks he has! What was he saying to you? Let's go down and talk to him. Shall we?"
The two little girls, after hunting about for a bit, found an easy place to climb down, when they advanced toward the little man, followed by Periwinkle, who, being not quite easy in his mind, kept close at their heels, growling to himself all the time in an undertone.
As they approached him, the Admiral greeted them with another low bow, lower even than the first one. In fact, he bowed so very low that his joints creaked and then stuck. Do what he would he could not straighten up again.
"Oh, dear!" cried Margaret. "He's caught somehow. Come and help me, Frances."
So saying, she picked up the little Admiral and held him close against her with both arms around his chest. In this position his feet stuck straight out in front of him, when Frances, taking hold of his ankles, pressed them down until he came straight again with a snap.
"Your Royal Highnesses are most condescending," said the polite little Admiral gratefully, bowing once more, though this time with greater caution. "The fact is," he went on to explain, "I had the misfortune to fall into the sea yesterday and my joints became swollen in consequence."