He was welcome, he knew, to go where he pleased.

Even the servants were kind to him, as well as was the elderly cousin whom he seldom saw, but who, he knew, lived there as company for his Lady of the Roses.
Perhaps best, next to the garden, David loved the tower room; possibly because Miss Holbrook herself so often suggested that they go there.
And it was there that they were when he said, dreamily, one day:-- "I like this place--up here so high, only sometimes it does make me think of that Princess, because it was in a tower like this that she was, you know." "Fairy stories, David ?" asked Miss Holbrook lightly.
"No, not exactly, though there was a Princess in it.

Mr.Jack told it." David's eyes were still out of the window.
"Oh, Mr.Jack! And does Mr.Jack often tell you stories ?" "No.

He never told only this one--and maybe that's why I remember it so." "Well, and what did the Princess do ?" Miss Holbrook's voice was still light, still carelessly preoccupied.

Her attention, plainly, was given to the sewing in her hand.
"She didn't do and that's what was the trouble," sighed I David.