The Terror netted another and another and another.
The garden was not as empty as he believed.

On a garden chair in the little lawn in the middle of it sat the Princess Elizabeth hidden from him by the thick wall of a pear tree, and in a chair beside her, sat, or rather sprawled, her guardian, the Baroness Frederica Von Aschersleben, who was following faithfully the doctor's instructions that her little charge should spend her time in the open air, but was doing her best to bring it about that the practise should do her as little good as possible by choosing the sultriest and most airless spot on the estate because it was so admirably adapted to her own comfortable sleeping.
The baroness added nothing to the old-world charm of the garden.

Her eyes were shut, her mouth was open, her face was most painfully crimson, and from her short, but extremely tip-tilted nose, came the sound of snoring which the Terror had ascribed to some distant pig.
The princess was warmly--very warmly--dressed for the sweltering afternoon and sweltering spot; little beads of sweat stood on her brow; the story-book she had been trying to read lay face downward in her lap; and she was looking round the simmering garden with a look of intolerable discomfort and boredom on her pretty pale face.
Then a moving object came into the range of her vision, just beyond the end-of the wall of pear tree--a moving object against the garden wall.
She could not see clearly what it was; but it seemed to her that a peach rose and vanished over the top of the wall.

She stared at the part of the wall whence it had risen; and in a few seconds another peach seemed to rise and disappear.
This curious behavior of English peaches so roused her curiosity that, in spite of the heat, she rose and walked quietly to the end of the wall of pear-tree.

As she came beyond it, she saw, leaning over the wall, a fair-haired boy.