Kitty came in radiant and smiling as the morning, bearing her treasures.  Of course we both pounced upon her:  “Kitty, where did you meet the Jook?  How did it happen?  What did you do?”

“Cows!” said Kitty solemnly, with grave lips and twinkling eyes.

“Cows?  Cows in Florida?  Kitty, what do you mean?”

“A cow ran at me, and I was frightened and ran at Mr. Warriner.  He drove the cow off.  That’s all.  Then he walked home with me.  Any harm in that?”

“Now, Kitty, the idea!  A Florida cow run at you?  If you had said a pig, there might be some sense in it, for the pigs here do have some life about them; but a cow!  Why, the creatures have not strength enough to stand up:  they are all starving by inches.”

“Can’t help that,” said Kitty.  “Must have thought I was good to eat, then, I suppose.  I thought she was going to toss me, but I don’t think it would be much more agreeable to be eaten.  Mr. Warriner is my preserver, anyhow, and I shall treat him ’as sich.’”

Kitty looked so mischievous and so mutinous that there was evidently no use in trying to get anything more out of her, and after standing there a few minutes fingering her blossoms and smiling to herself, she danced off to dress for tea.

“Selfish little thing, not to offer us one of those lovely sprays!” I exclaimed, but Koenigin laughed:  “My dear, they are hallowed.  Our touch would profane them.”

Koenigin always saw further than I did, and I gasped:  “Koenigin! you don’t think—­”

“Oh no, dear, not yet.  Kitty is piqued, and wants to fascinate the Jook a little—­just a little as yet, but she may burn her fingers before she gets through.  Looks are contagious, and—­did you see her face?”

Such a brilliant little figure as slipped softly into the dining-room that evening, all wreathed and twisted and garlanded about with the shining green vines, gemmed with their golden stars.  Head and throat and waist and round white arms were all twined with them, and blossoming sprays and knots of the delicately carved blossoms drooped or clung here and there amid her floating hair and gauzy black drapery.  How did the child ever make them stick?  How had she managed to decorate herself so elaborately in the short time that had elapsed since her return?  But Kitty had ways of doing things unknown to duller mortals.

Not a word had Kitty for me that evening, but for her father such clinging, coaxing, wheedling ways, and for the Jook such coy, sparkling, artfully-accidental glances, such shy turns of the little head, such dainty capricious airs, that it was delicious to watch her.  Koenigin and I sat in a dark corner for the express purpose of admiring her delicate little manoeuvres.  As for her father, good stolid man! he was well used to Kitty’s freaks, and went on reading his newspaper in such a matter-of-fact way that she might as well have wheedled the Pyramid of Cheops.  The Jook,