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Page 8
"The horse pranced, and pawed the dirt, because he was scared, but the
prince was brave.
"He thought only of the beautiful nymph, and he slashed at the big ogre,
and with the third blow from his sword the ogre fell dead.
"Then the prince rode back to the fountain, and there stood the nymph,
only she wasn't a nymph any more, but a real, truly princess.
"She ran to meet him, and he swung her up into his saddle, and they rode
back to his castle.
"There she told him that he need never leave her to seek his fortune,
because she had more gold than they could ever spend, and so they lived
happy ever after."
"Oh, I love to have the fairy tales end like that," said Lena, with a
happy sigh.
"And when a fellow hears of a prince who is daring, he wants to start
right out, and do something just as brave," said Rob, his brown eyes
looking out across to the distant hills. "There isn't the chance to save
nymphs, and princesses, now!"
"Oh, Rob, it doesn't matter," said Polly, "for if there was a nymph to
fight for, I just KNOW you'd be brave!"
"I'm SURE I would mean to be, but I haven't had the chance to try!" said
Rob, with a sudden fit of shyness, "but if it was YOU, Polly, I'd--I'd
do most anything!"
"I know you would," Polly answered gently.
"That was a lovely story," said Lena, "did you make it up?"
"Yes, and I got so excited when the ogre came out, and rushed at the
prince, that I was all out of breath just TELLING it," said Polly.
"And when you told about the gale you frightened me," said Lena,
"because I was SURE that the ogre was coming!"
Polly had a charming way of telling her stories, and those who listened,
remembered them, and thought of them again and again.
Perhaps Rob thought oftener of them, than did any other of her friends.
He was very fond of Polly, and never thought of her as Polly Sherwood,
but always as Princess Polly.
He would not have told his thoughts to anyone, but in his heart he
longed to do something brave that she might know that he had not boasted
idly, when he had said that her fairy tales had made him long to do
valiant deeds.
For days after the morning spent at Sherwood Hall, Rob dreamed of the
story that Polly had told.
"Oh, pshaw! Those things don't happen nowadays," he muttered, in
disgust. "Not that fairy things EVER happened," he added, "but knights
really lived, and they did things that proved their courage."
While Rob dreamed, and pondered over the valiant knights of old, Polly,
blowing huge soap bubbles, stood in the sunlight, making them larger and
larger, and laughing when they floated away on the soft breeze.
She, too, was dreaming.
The scent of the garden flowers made the air sweet, the yellow
butterflies, at play in the sunshine, fluttered too near a bubble.
It burst with the touch of their soft wings, and they flew away,
frightened that a clear, beautiful globe had chased them, and then so
mysteriously disappeared.
Vivian Osborne watched her, and so still had she been, that Polly had
almost forgotten that she was there.
Again she dipped her pipe into the bowl of suds, and gently she blew,
determined to make a larger bubble than she had yet made.
How beautiful it was! The trees, the blue sky mirrored on its glossy
surface, and--yes, there were the holly-hocks reflected on it, and
curving to fit its globe-like form.
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