The Blinded Lady sank back in her chair. She gave a funny little gasp.
"I _remember_!" she gasped. "The Young Man's eyes were _blue_! His teeth were like pearls! When he asked the way to the trout brook he laughed and said----"
The Blinded Lady's cheeks got all pink. She clapped her hands. She sank back into her Skirts. Her eyes looked awful queer.
"I see _everything_!" she cried. "_Everything!_--Give the Peacock Feather Fan to the Magician!"
Rosalee looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. I looked at Rosalee.
"To the Young Darling who wrote about her Mother's Face!" thumped the Blinded Lady.
"Will the 'Young Darling' who wrote about her Mother's Face please come forward--and get the Peacock Feather Fan!" said my Father.
Carol came forward. He looked very ashamed. He stubbed his toe on the braided rug.
"It seems to be our son Carol," said my Father, "who conjured up the picture of--of the blue larkspur!"
She tapped her foot on the floor. She frowned her brows. "Well--well--well," she said. "It wasn't at all what I intended! Not at _all_!--Well--well--well!" She began to rock her chair. "But after all," she said, "an agreement is an agreement! And the First Prize is the First Prize!--Let the Little Dumb Boy step forward to the Chinese Cabinet and choose his Peacock Feather Fan!"
Rosalee gave a little cry. It sounded almost like tears. She ran forward. She whispered in Carol's ear.
Carol opened his eyes. He took a chair. He pushed it against the cabinet. He climbed up to the highest shelf. There was a fan as big as the moon! It was sandalwood! It was carved! It was all peacock feathers! Blue! Bronze! It was _beautiful_! He took it! He went back to his seat! His mouth smiled a little! But he carried the Fan as though it was hot!
"The second prize of course," said the Blinded Lady, "goes to the child who wrote about the soldiers!"
The Blinded Lady took her hand. "It is not exactly as I had wished," said the Blinded Lady. "But a Choice of Cats is a Choice of Cats!--You will find them all in the wood-shed Young Lassie--awaiting your decision! Choose wisely! A good cat is a great comfort!"
We went to the wood-shed to help Rosalee choose her cat.
All the cats purred to be chosen. It was sad. My Father said it wasn't. My Father said one cat was plenty.