At the look of surprise on his face, she burst forth in such a gale of merriment that the little glade was filled with the music of her glee; while, in spite of himself, the painter joined.
"Oh!" she cried, "but that _is_ funny! I am glad, glad!" "Now, what do you mean by that ?" he demanded.
"Why--why--that's exactly what I was trying to get courage enough to confess to you!" she gasped.

And then she told him how she had spied upon him from the arbor in the rose garden; and how, in his absence, she had visited his studio.
"But how in the world did you get in?
The place was always locked, when I was away." "Oh," she said quaintly, "there was a good genie who let me in through the keyhole.

I didn't meddle with anything, you know--I just looked at the beautiful room where you work.

And I didn't glance, even, at the picture on the easel.

The genie told me you wouldn't like that.