--They would visit the great castle on the hill where
their beautiful princess lady lived. And, who could tell, perhaps they
might see her once more. Perhaps--"But that," said tiny Maggie, "was
too wonderful ever to happen again."
The way had been rather long for bare little feet. But excited hope had
strengthened them. And so they had climbed the hill, and had come at
last to the iron fence through which they could see the world of bright
flowers and clean grass and shady trees, and, in the midst of it all,
the big house. With their hungry little faces thrust between the strong
iron pickets, Sam Whaley's children feasted their eyes on the beauties
of Adam Ward's possessions. Even Bobby, in his rapture over the
loveliness of the scene, forgot for the moment his desire to blow up
the castle, with its owner and all.
Behind his clump of shrubbery, Adam Ward, crouching like some stealthy
creature of the jungle, watched and listened.
From the shelter of the arbor, Adam Ward's daughter looked upon the
scene with white-faced interest.
"Gee," said Bobby, "some place, I'd say!"
"Ain't it pretty?" murmured little Maggie. "Just like them places where
the fairies live."
"Huh," returned the boy, "old Adam Ward, he ain't no fairy I'm
a-tellin' yer.
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