For an instant he did not understand what she meant; then he laughed.
"Nay, pay you no heed to such things, child."
"And why should not I, father, seeing that they bring you so great honor?"
"Honor, said you?" but then he seemed to check himself. This was not Julius Shawe, to whom he could speak freely enough about the conditions of an actor's life in London. "Well, then, the story is of a banished duke, a man of great wisdom and skill, and he is living on a desert island with his daughter—a right fair maiden she is, too, and she has no other companion in the world but himself."
"But he is kind to her and good?" she said, quickly.
"Truly."
"What other companion would she have, then? Is she not content—ay, and right well pleased withal?"
"Methinks the story would lag with but these," her father said, with a smile. "Would you not have her furnished with a lover—a young prince and a handsome—one that would play chess with her, and walk with her while her father was busy?"
"But how on a desert island? How should she find such a one?" Judith said, with her eyes all intent.
"There, you see, is where the magic comes in. What if her father have at his command a sprite, a goblin, that can work all wonders—that can dazzle people in the dark, and control the storm, and whistle the young prince to the very feet of his mistress?"