Jeanne was the quicker in the first place, but Hugh was so patient that he soon equalled her, and then the interest grew still greater.
"I really think, Cheri," said Jeanne, one evening, when they had been playing for a good while, "I really think our balls are _getting_ to be rather like fairy ones.

Every day they go better and better." "Perhaps it is our hands that are getting to be like fairy ones," said Hugh.

"But it is growing too dark to see to play any more." They were playing in the tapestry room, for Marcelline had told them they would have more space there, as it was large, and Hugh's little bed in the corner did not take up much room.

It was getting dusk, for the days were not yet very long, though winter was almost over, and they had been playing a good while.

As Hugh spoke he gave the last ball a final throw high up in the air, higher than usual, for though Jeanne sprang forward to catch it, she missed it somehow.