73 Make-Beleve

Spring comes—though it be but for a flying,
mischievous invasion of Winter’s kingdom
—a man must needs be glad. Doris was
not at the gateway, though she had often
condescended to’ await him there on morn-
ings far less delightful. He had a long
search before he found her in the glass
studio, among the last fading relics of the
year’s chrysanthemums. Something in
her attitude, and perhaps in her environ-
ment, spoke eloquently.

“Why, Doris,” he said, “I believe you
are almost sad.”

The child turned and faced him, and he
knew at once that his guess was not inac-
curate. ‘‘ Why?” she asked, plaintively.

“T can’t tell you,” he said. ‘“ Perhaps
it is all these dead chrysanthemums.
There is not one but is withered: Per-
haps I only fancied it.”

Doris paused. “ You will keep a secret,
if I tell you?” she said at last.

‘What is one among——” began the
Visitor. Then he could not help remem-