“We are schoolmates, I see,” he said, smiling at Anne’s colors.  “That ought to be sufficient introduction.  My name is Royal Gardner.  And you are the Miss Shirley who read the Tennyson paper at the Philomathic the other evening, aren’t you?”

“Yes; but I cannot place you at all,” said Anne, frankly.  “Please, where do you belong?”

“I feel as if I didn’t belong anywhere yet.  I put in my Freshman and Sophomore years at Redmond two years ago.  I’ve been in Europe ever since.  Now I’ve come back to finish my Arts course.”

“This is my Junior year, too,” said Anne.

“So we are classmates as well as collegemates.  I am reconciled to the loss of the years that the locust has eaten,” said her companion, with a world of meaning in those wonderful eyes of his.

The rain came steadily down for the best part of an hour.  But the time seemed really very short.  When the clouds parted and a burst of pale November sunshine fell athwart the harbor and the pines Anne and her companion walked home together.  By the time they had reached the gate of Patty’s Place he had asked permission to call, and had received it.  Anne went in with cheeks of flame and her heart beating to her fingertips.  Rusty, who climbed into her lap and tried to kiss her, found a very absent welcome.  Anne, with her soul full of romantic thrills, had no attention to spare just then for a crop-eared pussy cat.

That evening a parcel was left at Patty’s Place for Miss Shirley.  It was a box containing a dozen magnificent roses.  Phil pounced impertinently on the card that fell from it, read the name and the poetical quotation written on the back.

“Royal Gardner!” she exclaimed.  “Why, Anne, I didn’t know you were acquainted with Roy Gardner!”

“I met him in the park this afternoon in the rain,” explained Anne hurriedly.  “My umbrella turned inside out and he came to my rescue with his.”

“Oh!” Phil peered curiously at Anne.  “And is that exceedingly commonplace incident any reason why he should send us longstemmed roses by the dozen, with a very sentimental rhyme?  Or why we should blush divinest rosy-red when we look at his card?  Anne, thy face betrayeth thee.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Phil.  Do you know Mr. Gardner?”

“I’ve met his two sisters, and I know of him.  So does everybody worthwhile in Kingsport.  The Gardners are among the richest, bluest, of Bluenoses.  Roy is adorably handsome and clever.  Two years ago his mother’s health failed and he had to leave college and go abroad with her—­his father is dead.  He must have been greatly disappointed to have to give up his class, but they say he was perfectly sweet about it.  Fee—­fi—­fo—­fum, Anne.  I smell romance.  Almost do I envy you, but not quite.  After all, Roy Gardner isn’t Jonas.”

“You goose!” said Anne loftily.  But she lay long awake that night, nor did she wish for sleep.  Her waking fancies were more alluring than any vision of dreamland.  Had the real Prince come at last?  Recalling those glorious dark eyes which had gazed so deeply into her own, Anne was very strongly inclined to think he had.