Down on her knees at the fountain's brink, her curls almost touching the water, she was sailing boats made of hollyhock petals. The doll's perambulator stood near by.
Noiselessly I crept along the wall till I reached the cherry tree that stood in the corner. Reaching its friendly branches, I let myself down, hand over hand, till, at last, I dropped lightly on the soft turf.
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
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