“That was it, I’m sure,” replied Hugh, soothingly.  “Maybe you named her Angel, yourself?”

“I don’t know,” said Rosemary.  “She seems to have been it, always, ever since I can remember.  And she does look just like one, you know, she’s so beautiful.”

“I expect you remember a lot more about angels than I do, because it isn’t so long since you came from where they live.  But here we are in the woods at Cap Martin.  Have you ever been here before?”

“Angel and I had a picnic here once, all by ourselves; and there were lots of sheep under the olive trees, and a funny old shepherd who made music to them.  Oh, I do love picnics, don’t you?  Angel said, if she were rich, she’d take me on the loveliest kind of a picnic for Christmas; but, you see, it would cost too much money to do it, for we’ve hardly got any, especially since the Comtesse doesn’t pay us back.”

“What kind of picnic would it have been?” asked Hugh, driving along the beautiful shore road, where the wind-blown pines lean forward like transformed wood nymphs, caught in a spell just as they spread out their arms to spring into the sea.

“Angel has told me lots of history-stories about the strange rock-villages in the mountains.  There’s one called Eze, on top of a hill shaped almost like a horn; she showed me a picture of it.  Children live up in the rock villages, and never come down to the towns.  They’ve never even seen any toys, like other children play with, Angel says.  All the strangers who come here give presents to the poor in Monte Carlo and Mentone, and big places like that; but they never think of the ones up in the mountains.  Angel said how nice it would be, if we were rich, to buy toys,—­baskets and baskets full,—­and give them away to the children of Eze.  Perhaps you are rich; are you?”

“Richer than I thought, a few years ago, that I ever should be.  I used to be poor, until I dug, and found some gold lying about in the ground.”

“How splendid!  I suppose the fairies showed you where to look.  Jane says there are no fairies, but I do hope she’s mistaken.  I wish you would send up some presents to the little children at Eze.”

“I will, lots, if you’ll take them.”

“Perhaps we could all go together.”

“I’m afraid your mother wouldn’t care for that.”

“Yes, she would.  Because, if you were never unkind to her, like Nurse said you were, she’ll be most awfully glad to see you again.  I shouldn’t wonder if she’d cry for joy, to have you with us always, and take care of us.  Oh, do let’s go back now, and I’ll take you to her.  She will be surprised!”

“I should think she would,” said Hugh.  “But look here; you said she wouldn’t get back till dark.  We’ve come to Mentone now.  See how pretty the shops are for Christmas.  Can’t you stop and have some nice hot chocolate and cakes with me, and afterwards choose a doll for yourself, as a Christmas present from your old friend?”