And this was Thursday, and by Mr. Harris's watch, long ago carefully adjusted to English time, it was precisely five minutes to twelve. The skies were blue above them and a delightful little breeze was blowing out of the west; so that everything was just as it should be when two pairs of eager little feet were to be allowed to tread the paths of the Queen's own garden. And such a garden as it proved! with its fountains and statues and vases, and the orangery on one side, and on the other three sides a beautiful sloping lawn, ascending from the level of the garden to the gray stonewall at the outer edge of the terrace; and to think that here they were actually walking about in this beautiful garden, instead of merely peering through the fretwork of the iron gate, as some other little children with envious eyes were doing that very moment. Marie-Celeste was so impressed with the greatness of the privilege accorded them, that for the first five minutes or so she kept Albert's hand tight in her own, and spoke never a word save a whispered “yes” or “no” to Albert's questions. But to Albert, who had been born beneath the castle walls, it must be confessed royalty was less awe-inspiring, and to walk about hand in hand in that stately fashion and talk in suppressed whispers was not his idea of the way to enjoy the Queen's garden.