But Sybilla paid no heed; she was examining the title page of old Dog-ear:  a rather wonderful title page, printed in fascinating red and black with flourishes.

“I’ll just see whether—­” And the smooth, white fingers hesitated; but she had caught a glimpse of an ancient engraving on the next page—­a very quaint one, that held her fascinated.

“I wonder——­”

She turned the next page.  The first paragraph of the famous classic began deliciously.  After a few moments she laughed, adding to herself:  “I can’t see what harm——­”

There was no harm.  Her father had meant another book; but Sybilla did not know that.

“I’ll just glance through it to—­to—­be sure that I mustn’t read it.”

She laid one hand on the paper hanger’s table, vaulted up sideways, and, seated on the top, legs swinging, buried herself in the book, unconscious that the overturned paste was slowly fastening her to the spattered table top.

An hour later, hearing steps on the landing, she sprang—­that is, she went through all the graceful motions of springing lightly to the floor.  But she had not budged an inch.  No Gorgon’s head could have consigned her to immovability more hopeless.

Restrained from freedom by she knew not what, she made one frantic and demoralized effort—­and sank back in terror at the ominous tearing sound.

She was glued irrevocably to the table.

[Illustration]

XIII

THE CROWN PRINCE

Wherein the Green Mouse Squeaks

A few minutes later the paper hanging young man entered, swinging an empty dinner pail and halted in polite surprise before a flushed young girl in full fencing costume, who sat on his operating table, feet crossed, convulsively hugging a book to the scarlet heart embroidered on her plastron.

“I—­hope you don’t mind my sitting here,” she managed to say.  “I wanted to watch the work.”

“By all means,” he said pleasantly.  “Let me get you a chair——­”

“No, thank you.  I had rather sit th-this way.  Please begin and don’t mind if I watch you.”

The young man appeared to be perplexed.

“I’m afraid,” he ventured, “that I may require that table for cutting and——­”

“Please—­if you don’t mind—­begin to paste.  I am in-intensely interested in p-pasting—­I like to w-watch p-paper p-pasted on a w-wall.”

Her small teeth chattered in spite of her; she strove to control her voice—­strove to collect her wits.

He stood irresolute, rather astonished, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but——­”

“Please paste; won’t you?” she asked.

“Why, I’ve got to have that table to paste on——­”

“Then d-don’t think of pasting.  D-do anything else; cut out some strips.  I am so interested in watching p-paper hangers cut out things—­”