"No Kings!" echoed the little lady, incredulously. "Who reigns, then? But do not say Princess every time; call me Mary. We must go back so soon, and I have a hundred questions to ask about so many strange things. We are very tired of looking at them from up there," glancing at the picture.
"Indeed, we have longed to get down close by you ever since we came," exclaimed the Prince. "I am sure you saw us smile at you last evening," he added.
"So I was right," cried Allan, joyfully. "I thought so;" and looking up to the picture, he saw the pretty spaniels quite alone against the rich drapery. They were huddled together in a lonely way, a silky heap of noses and paws. At Prince Charlie's voice one of them threw up his head for a dismal howl, but at a sign from his young master he patiently curled down to wait.
The Princess missed Jamie, and turned to look for him. There, in a corner on the floor, sat the baby Duke, in his sky-blue silk, dancing Jessie's droll Japanese "Ning-Ping" until the limp arms and legs fairly flew. He stopped a moment to look into the narrow sleepy eyes, and to touch the long braid that hung down behind, and the stiff little fringe, like a brush, on top of the queer head, and then again the legs and arms rattled a tune, while Jamie's round, solemn eyes seemed not even to wink, so intent and wondering was his look. In the mean time his stately sister held Nannette close in her arms, as she moved about, looking, listening, and questioning.
Just then Jamie called, softly, "Charlie! Charlie! Mary! come and see."
The little fellow had found a box of jointed wooden animals and people. He was twisting the legs and arms and paws and wings into all manner of shapes, and then standing up the funny wry shapes, and laughing in high glee.
Allan noticed how quietly they all spoke and moved. Even when they laughed heartily, or called out, they did not make any loud noise. He wondered if it was being pictures so long had made them so still.
Presently Jessie took her lacquered box, full of small treasures, from the table to the sofa, where the two girls cozily seated themselves. All of the simple, pretty things seemed equally new and curious to the little stranger. Jessie tried to have the Princess Mary keep a few trifles which she seemed most to admire, but in vain; she only drew up her small quaint figure, and said, quietly, "A Princess may not accept gifts." Somehow, although she smiled graciously, this little speech troubled Jessie, who feared she had been rude, although she did not in the least know how.