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"You'll know in a minute or two; I'll tell you. Now listen; only remember, first, it is a most tremendous secret between you and me."

"Yes, yes," said Rose; "I love secrets." She pressed a little closer to Christian.

"You are quite my very greatest friend, you know, Rosy," said Christian. "There's Belle Webster and Bertha Hole; they think themselves quite chummy with me, but you are my real friend. We understand each other, we have had so many thrills together."

"Oh, yes," said Rose, "yes! Only I don't like you when you are Charlotte Corday. I was Marat once, you know, and I didn't like that time."

"Well, I'm not Charlotte now. Perhaps I'll never be again. But listen. The secret is our secret. It is too funny, Rosy. The rest of the house think that it is theirs, but it is ours all the time. Now then! I was so cold up in my attic—my darling fairy attic—this afternoon that I ran down to get warm in mother's boudoir. I hid myself behind the curtains. It was so cozy that I dropped asleep. I was lying on the window ledge, and there were cushions, and a soft pillow, and everything to make it delicious. When I woke I heard mother talking to that horrid Neil woman."