While looking in her mirror she had seen fairyland andherself， a princess， just awakening from a long slumber.
She had forgotten one that was watching her with sad，beautiful， stern eyes—the only one there was to approve orcondemn what she did. Straight and slender and tall， witha look of sorrowful reproach on his handsome， melancholyface， General Kitchener fixed his wonderful eyes on herout of his gilt photograph frame on the dresser.
Dulcie turned like an automatic doll to the landlady.
“Tell him I can’t go，” she said dully. “Tell him I’m sick， orsomething. Tell him I’m not going out.”
After the door was closed and locked， Dulcie fell uponher bed， crushing her black tip， and cried for ten minutes.
General Kitchener was her only friend. He was Dulcie’sideal of a gallant knight. He looked as if he might have asecret sorrow， and his wonderful moustache was a dream，and she was a little afraid of that stern yet tender lookin his eyes. She used to have little fancies that he wouldcall at the house sometime， and ask for her， with hissword clanking against his high boots. Once， when a boywas rattling a piece of chain against a lamp-post she hadopened the window and looked out. But there was no use.
She knew that General Kitchener was away over in Japan，leading his army against the savage Turks； and he wouldnever step out of his gilt frame for her. Yet one look fromhim had vanquished Piggy that night. Yes， for that night.
When her cry was over Dulcie got up and took off herbest dress， and put on her old blue kimono. She wanted nodinner. She sang two verses of “Sammy.” Then she becameintensely interested in a little red speck on the side of hernose. And after that was attended to， she drew up a chairto the rickety table， and told her fortune with an old deckof cards.
“The horrid， impudent thing！” she said aloud. “And Inever gave him a word or a look to make him think it！”
At nine o’clock Dulcie took a tin box of crackers and alittle pot of raspberry jam out of her trunk， and had a feast.
She offered General Kitchener some jam on a cracker； buthe only looked at her as the sphinx would have looked at abutterfly—if there are butterflies in the desert.
“Don’t eat it if you don’t want to，” said Dulcie. “Anddon’t put on so many airs and scold so with your eyes. Iwonder if you’d be so superior and snippy if you had to liveon six dollars a week.”
It was not a good sign for Dulcie to be rude to GeneralKitchener. And then she turned Benvenuto Celliniface downward with a severe gesture. But that was notinexcusable； for she had always thought he was HenryVIII， and she did not approve of him.
At half-past nine Dulcie took a last look at the pictureson the dresser， turned out the light， and skipped into bed.
It’s an awful thing to go to bed with a good-night lookat General Kitchener， William Muldoon， the Duchess ofMarlborough， and Benvenuto Cellini. This story reallydoesn’t get anywhere at all. The rest of it comes later—sometime when Piggy asks Dulcie again to dine withhim， and she is feeling lonelier than usual， and GeneralKitchener happens to be looking the other way； andthen—
As I said before， I dreamed that I was standing near acrowd of prosperous-looking angels， and a policeman tookme by the wing and asked if I belonged with them.
“Who are they？” I asked.
“Why，” said he， “they are the men who hired workinggirls，and paid ’em five or six dollars a week to live on. Areyou one of the bunch？”
“Not on your immortality，” said I. “I’m only the fellowthat set fire to an orphan asylum， and murdered a blindman for his pennies.”
