He had gray eyes and a small upturned
mustache--Jean uttered an exclamation.
"What's the matter?" her father asked.
"Oh, nothing--" she watched the two ascend the stairs. "I thought for
a moment that I knew him."
The great door opened and closed, the rosy wrap and the fur coat were
swallowed up.
"Of course it couldn't be," Jean decided as she and her father
continued on their wonderful way.
"Couldn't be what, my dear?"
"The same man, Daddy," Jean said, and changed the subject.
CHAPTER II
CINDERELLA
The next time that Jean saw Him was at the theater. She and her father
went to worship at the shrine of Maude Adams, and He was there.
It was Jean's yearly treat. There were, of course, other plays. But
since her very-small-girlhood, there had been always that red-letter
night when "The Little Minister" or "Hop-o'-my-Thumb" or "Peter Pan"
had transported her straight from the real world to that whimsical,
tender, delightful realm where Barrie reigns.
Peter Pan had been the climax!
_Do you believe in fairies?_
Of course she did. And so did Miss Emily. And so did her father,
except in certain backsliding moments.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34