a little girl with golden hair and eyes as blue as the flowers growing in the young grass about them. To the simple lad she seemed as richly dressed as a fairy princess, for her frock was of flowered silk, she wore silver buckles upon her little shoes, and her daintily flounced cap was fastened at either ear with a quaint medallion of beaten gold. Samuel took in all of these details slowly, half afraid to speak lest he should drive away the delicate little creature, who had risen from the grass and now stood poised for flight like a gaily tinted butterfly. Then she spoke, and he knew there was very little of the fairy about her and that she was almost as human as himself.

"Boy," she said in unmistakable Dutch, pointing to the half-eaten cake in his hand, "boy, give me that. I am hungry." She spoke like one accustomed to instant obedience, taking the cake without a word of thanks and eating it prettily, her large blue eyes never leaving Samuel's wondering face. When nothing remained, she again held out her hand, with her pretty, imperious gesture. "More," said the little lady, and Samuel gave her his last cooky, wishing heartily that he had brought his mother's blue crockery jar along for the little lady's pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he said humbly, "but I ate the others before I knew you were coming. They are good, aren't they? Does your mother ever bake sugar cakes?" he ended in a desperate attempt to make conversation.

She shook her blond head. "My mother is dead," she told him. "She was drowned and I would have been drowned, too, but a brave sailor held me tight until he found a spar and he tied me to it and we floated and floated and floated until a big ship passed us and brought us here." She spoke between bites, very calmly, as though her tale, as thrilling as any of Samuel's dream adventures, was no uncommon story for a dainty little maid to tell on a spring morning.

"Now I know who you are," Samuel exclaimed, forgetting his shyness in his delighted surprise. "Your name is Katrina and you live with the governor and your mother was lost at sea."

Katrina, having finished her cooky, pensively picked up the few crumbs from her lap as though she were still hungry. "I live with Uncle Peter," she corrected. "He is very good to me and gives me pretty presents;—he gave me these on my birthday," and she touched the gold medallions upon her ears complacently. "Only he never lets me go out and play alone like the other little girls who sometimes visit me say they do, and I get tired of staying in the garden. And when I go out walking with old black Daniel behind me, it is just as hard as staying at home. I want little girls and boys to play with and take me places;—I get tired of my dolls," she ended wistfully.

Samuel nodded with understanding sympathy. To have this little stranger maid listen to his stories or follow him on his lonely rambles! If he might even go to play with her sometimes in the garden behind Peter Stuyvesant's house. He frowned at the thought: it was not hard to picture the old governor falling into one of his rages at the insolence of the Jewish boy who dared to walk down the garden path. And yet what fun they would have had with every bush a mysterious fairy castle, every tree a pirate ship to take them across the Main. He sighed regretfully, turning to listen to his companion's bright chatter.

"I suppose they're looking all over for me," she laughed mischievously, "cook and black Daniel and Uncle Peter, too. Won't he be cross! He was so cross this morning when he got a letter from Holland, a big letter with a big red seal, and he'll be crosser yet when I'm not home for dinner." She tossed her sunny curls defiantly. "But he won't dare to scold me; he'll scold everybody else and shake his cane at them, but he won't dare to be cross to me."

"But I think you ought to go home," suggested Samuel. "It isn't right to worry your uncle so when he is so good to you and gives you such nice presents."

She made a roguish little face. "I can't go home," she giggled, teasingly, "I've never been out alone and I lost my way almost as soon as I left the garden. So I'll just have to stay here all day until somebody from home comes and finds me." She sprang up, shaking out her silken skirts, dancing gayly in her little buckled shoes. "Come, boy," she commanded imperiously, "Come and play with me." She fumbled in the pocket of her black satin apron and drew out a tiny worsted ball. "Let's play ball," she cried, "and then we'll run races and climb that tree over there and maybe you can tell me stories when I'm tired. My old nurse in Holland used to tell me brave tales, but I don't like those black Daniel tells—all about charms and goblins. Do you know any nice stories, boy?"

"Yes, a few," admitted Samuel modestly. His cheeks, usually so pale, were flushed with excitement; the little playfellow of his dreams seemed to have come to life in the flower-strewn meadow. He caught the bright ball she tossed to him and laughed with pleasure. "You catch wrongly," he chided her, "but I like to play with you."

The afternoon sped on golden wings. Perhaps neither of the children would have dreamed of the lateness of the hour had not Katrina interrupted Samuel in the middle of one of his glowing tales, exclaiming, "I'm hungry, now. I wonder what cook has for supper?"

Samuel started. The story of the old sea captain he had been telling his new friend was very real to him; he could almost see the old, ancient, weather-beaten vessel, hear the waves beating on the shores of that distant island where the golden treasure lay hidden for so many years. Now his dream people faded away and he saw that the sun was setting and felt the air growing chill and damp about them. He rose a little wearily and helped Katrina to her feet.

"We must go home," he said, gravely. "Perhaps we did wrong to stay so long, but it was fun to play together, wasn't it? And did you like my stories?"

She nodded, bending to pick up the bouquet he had gathered for her earlier in the afternoon. "I like them as well as the tales my nursie used to tell," she commented, approvingly. "You'll show me the way home, won't you?"

Hand in hand, they walked slowly back to the dusty street that led to the governor's house. At the gate, Samuel was about to bid his little friend good-bye, but she caught his hand and drew him in after her. "Oh, you must stay," she protested, "you must stay and let Uncle Peter thank you for bringing me home. And I want you to tell me another story after supper. You must come in!"

"But my mother will be worried," declared Samuel, "and father——"

"We'll have Daniel go and tell them you are here," she solved the problem easily. Then she ran up the broad stairs, crying gaily, "Oh, Uncle, I've had the loveliest time," as a short, stern-faced man appeared in the doorway; a man with a silver-banded wooden leg and leaning on a heavy cane.

"Katrina!" he exclaimed with some sternness, but she pulled his hard face down to hers for a kiss.

"I've had such a lovely time," she cooed, "and this nice boy found me and brought me home. Thank him, Uncle Peter, and have him come in and tell me some more stories."

Samuel drew back; but the governor nodded for him to enter, and, feeling miserably shy and uncertain of himself, he followed the pair into the house. The room they entered was richly furnished, but gloomy. Samuel, boy that he was, felt how much lovelier his mother's simple living room was with its shining brass and the few plants blooming at the window. The governor sat down behind a long table littered with papers and drew Katrina to his knee, at the same time motioning Samuel to be seated. Then he spoke, stroking the child's golden curls, his keen eyes growing