They always kiss the hand of a princess
when they meet her."
"But I'm not a princess."
"You're not! Grandad said you are, and I guess he knows."
"Ho, ho, isn't that funny?" and the girl's hearty laugh again rang out.
"I'm no princess; I'm just plain Whyn Sinclair. Your grandfather must
have been joking. It must be nice to have a grandfather like that.
His eyes are just full of fun. Sit down, and tell me about him."
"He isn't my grandfather," Rod replied, as he took his position upon
the edge of a chair close to the bed. He was feeling more at home now
in the presence of this beautiful girl, since she was not a princess.
"He isn't your grandfather!"
"No. I haven't any real grandfather, and I never saw my father or
mother."
"You didn't! Oh, you poor boy."
"No. I'm only a waif, that's what they call me. I was left at the
door of the rectory one night a long time ago when I was a little baby,
and Mr. and Mrs. Royal have taken care of me ever since."
"How lovely!" and Whyn clasped her thin white hands together.
"Lovely! What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's so romantic."
"What's that?"
"Just like you read about in stories. Maybe your father and mother are
a real prince and princess, or some other great persons, and you were
stolen away from them when you were a baby by cruel people.
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