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"Stop, Jim!" she exclaimed. "You must not say anything against

him. I love him."

"Why, you don't even know his name," answered the lad. "Who is

he? I have a right to know."

"He is called Prince Charming. Don't you like the name? Oh! you

silly boy! you should never forget it. If you only saw him, you

would think him the most wonderful person in the world. Some day

you will meet him-when you come back from Australia. You will

like him so much. Everybody likes him, and I ... love him. I wish

you could come to the theatre to-night. He is going to be there,

and I am to play Juliet. Oh! how I shall play it! Fancy, Jim, to

be in love and play Juliet! To have him sitting there! To play

for his delight! I am afraid I may frighten the company, frighten

or enthrall them. To be in love is to surpass one's self. Poor

dreadful Mr. Isaacs will be shouting 'genius' to his loafers at

the bar. He has preached me as a dogma; to-night he will announce

me as a revelation. I feel it. And it is all his, his only,

Prince Charming, my wonderful lover, my god of graces. But I am

poor beside him. Poor? What does that matter?