Even if you don't, I want to find out who she is
and all about her."
"_I'd_ just like to see her again and that darling dog. If she doesn't
want to tell us who she is I don't want her to! It's more fun to pretend
that her house is made of bread and cake and sugar."
"Pooh!" was Beryl's impatient answer.
And that evening, as though in defense of her suspicions she thrust a
newspaper under Robin's nose with an expressive "There, read _that_!" at
the same time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph.
The paragraph told of the mysterious disappearance of its Dowager Queen
from the little warring Balkan kingdom of Altruria.
"She could be in this country as well as not. I read a book once where a
Duke hid for five years right in the heart of New York and then met his
heir face to face on Broadway. Wouldn't it be fun if that old woman
_was_ this Dowager Queen?"
"But, Beryl, she talked English. Wouldn't she talk--some other
language?"
Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers don't. They talk ever so many
tongues. English as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You just
wait."
CHAPTER XI
POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD
The following Wednesday had been set for Mrs.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132