A faint light from Beverly's window filtered across the
stone floor.
"Don't touch it, Beverly," cried the princess, as the girl started
forward with an eager exclamation. But Beverly had been thinking of the
very object that now quivered before her in the dull light, saucy,
aggressive and jaunty as it was the night when she saw it for the first
time.
A long, slim red feather bobbed to and fro as if saluting her with
soldierly fidelity. Its base was an orange, into which it had been stuck
by the hand that tossed it from below. Beverly grasped it with more
ecstasy than wisdom and then rushed to the stone railing, Yetive looking
on in amazement. Diligently she searched the ground below for the man
who had sent the red message, but he was nowhere in sight. Then came the
sudden realization that she was revealing a most unmaidenly eagerness,
to him as well as to the princess, for she did not doubt that he was
watching from the shadows below. She withdrew from the rail in confusion
and fled to her bed-chamber, followed by her curious companion. There
were explanations--none of which struck speaker or listener as
logical--and there were giggles which completely simplified the
situation. Beverly thrust the slim red feather into her hair, and struck
an attitude that would have set Baldos wild with joy if he could have
seen it. The next day, when she appeared in the park, the feather stood
up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat, though womanly
perverseness impelled her to ignore Baldos when he passed her on his way
to mess.
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