The little girl had an idea that she ought to go to the place where ships came in, and as she had more than once walked to the port with her mother, she knew the way very well.

Two white yachts were riding at anchor in the harbour, but no one had come on shore who looked handsome enough for a father to be recognised by ’eaven-sent-hinstinct, the moment you set eyes upon him.  Rosemary stood by the quay for a few minutes, uncertain what to do.  Two or three deep-eyed, long-lashed Monegasque men smiled at her kindly, as Monegasque men and Italians smile at all children.  She had learned to lisp French with comparative fluency, during the months she and “Angel” had spent in Paris; and now she asked where the people went who had come in on those pretty white ships?

“Those are yachts,” said one of the deep-eyed men; “and the people who come on them are rowed to shore in little boats.  Then they go quickly up the hill, to the Casino—­that big white building there—­so that they can put their money on a table, or take somebody else’s money off.”

“I have always seen dishes put on tables,” said Rosemary, “never money.  If I went there, could I take some off?  I should like to have a little, very much.”

“So would we all,” smiled the deep-eyed man, patting her head.  “They would not let you in, because you are too young.”

“I want to find my father, who has been on the sea,” the child explained.  “Do you think he might be there?”

“He is sure to be there,” said the deep-eyed man; and he and the other men laughed.  “If you sit on a bench where the grass and flowers are, outside the Casino door, and watch, perhaps you will see him come down the steps.  But you are small to be out all alone looking for him.”

“It’s very important for me to find my father before it is dark,” said Rosemary.  “So I thank you for telling me, and now goodbye.”

Daintily polite as usual, she bowed to them all, and started up the hill.

As she walked briskly on, she studied with large, starry eyes the face of every man she met; but there was not a suitable father among them.  She was still fatherless when she reached the Place of the Casino, where she had often come before, to walk in the gardens or on the terrace at unfashionable hours with her mother, on Sundays, or other days when—­unfortunately—­there was no work to do.

She had sat down on a bench between a French “nou-nou,” with a wonderful head dress, and a hawk-visaged old lady with a golden wig, and had fixed her eyes upon the Casino door, when the throb, throb of a motor caught her attention.

Now an automobile was a marvellous dragon for Rosemary, and she could never see too many for her pleasure.  Above all things, she would have loved a spin on the back of such a dragon, and she liked choosing favourites from among the dragon brood.