But it was not a word which Rosemary would
have understood, even if she had heard.
[Illustration: CHAPTER SEVEN]
THE WHITE FIGURE AT THE DOOR
[Illustration: R]
Rosemary had tears in her eyes and voice, when the fairy father stopped
his car at the door of the hotel. He had driven so very quickly since
he'd broken it to her that they must part!
"Now, have you to vanish this very minute?" she asked, choking back a
sob, as he lifted her to the ground.
Vanish? He had forgotten all about vanishing. To vanish now was the last
thing he wished to do.
"Something tells me that I shan't have to,--quite yet, anyhow," he said
hastily. "I--want to see your mother. Has she a sitting-room where I
could call upon her, or wait till she comes in?"
"We haven't one of our own," said Rosemary. "But there's a nice old lady
who lives next door to us, on the top floor, and is very good to Angel
and me. She writes stories, and things for the papers, and Angel types
them, sometimes. When she's away she lets us use the sitting-room where
she writes; and she's away now.
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