"the queen of tahulamaji," admitted miss whitcom, "was really a most amazing creature."

"i should think it likely."

they were sitting together on the rustic bench. at first he had been on the rustic bench alone. she had flung herself in the hammock. but the interest of their talk had brought her first to a sitting posture, then to a standing posture, and finally to a rustic bench posture.

"ah, but you mustn't think just because she was amazing that she wasn't also perfectly human—sometimes almost desperately so, o'donnell!"

"yes, i suppose so. i can somehow picture her—especially the desperate times."

"well, of course she did have her eccentricities. for instance, her temper. to the last it remained most alarmingly and deliciously undependable."

"to the last?"

"ah, yes—poor tessie!"

"tessie?"

"i always called her that. it wasn't strictly tahulamajian, but she adored the name."

"so the queen is dead?"