'No, I don't want any more tea. I'd better go to bed. It's so dull, Nana.'
Then another voice replied--it came from some one further back in the room, but we could not distinguish the words--
'There aren't any stars. You may as well shut the window. And stars aren't much good. I want some one to play with me. Other little--' but just then we saw the shadow of some one crossing the room, and the window--it was a glass-door kind of window like the ones up above, which opened on to the balcony, for there was a little sort of balcony downstairs too--was quickly closed. There was no more to be heard or seen; not even shadows, for the curtains were now drawn across.
Pete gave a deep sigh, and I felt that he was looking at me, though it was too dark to see, and there was no lamp just there. He wanted to know what I thought.
'Did you hear?' asked Peterkin at last. 'She said she wanted somebody to play with her.'
'Yes,' I said, 'it is rather queer. You'd think Mrs. Wylie might have made friends with her, and invited her to tea. But it's no good our bothering about it,' and I walked a little faster, and began to whistle. I did not want Pete to go on again talking a lot about his invisible princess, for such she seemed likely to remain.
It was far easier, however, to get anything into Peterkin's fancy than to get it out again, as I might have known by experience. We had not gone far before I felt him tugging at my arm.
'Don't walk so fast, Gilley,' he said--poor, little chap, he was quite breathless with trying to keep up with me, so I had to slacken a bit,--'and do let me talk to you. When we get home I shan't have a chance--not till to-morrow morning in bed, I daresay; for they'll all be wanting to hear about Mrs. Wylie, and what we had for tea, and everything.'
I did not so much mind about _that_ part of it, but I did not want to be awakened before dawn the next morning to listen to all he'd got to say. So I thought I might as well let him come out with some of it.
'What do you want to talk about?' I said.
'Oh! of course, you know,' he replied. 'It's about the _poor_ little girl. I am so dreffully sorry for her, Gilley, and I want to plan something. It's no good asking Mrs. Wylie. We'll have to do something ourselves. I'm afraid the people she's with lock her up, or something. _P'raps_ they daren't let her go out, if there's some wicked fairy, or a witch, or something like that, that wants to run off with her.'