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[Illustration: "She almost wished some fisherman might come into view. "]

 THE GREEN MOUSE

 By

 ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

 ILLUSTRATED IN COLOR BY

 EDMUND FREDERICK

 1910

 TO

 MY FRIEND

 JOHN CORBIN

Folly and Wisdom, Heavenly twins, Sons of the god Imagination, Heirs of the Virtues--which were Sins Till Transcendental ContemplationTransmogrified their outer skins-- Friend, do you follow me? For I Have lost myself, I don't know why. 

Resuming, then, this erudite And decorative Dedication, --Accept it, John, with all your might In Cinquecentic resignation. You may not understand it, quite, But if you've followed me all through, You've done far more than I could do. 

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PREFACE

To the literary, literal, and scientific mind purposeless fiction isabhorrent. Fortunately we all are literally and scientifically inclined;the doom of purposeless fiction is sounded; and it is a great comfort tobelieve that, in the near future, only literary and scientific workssuitable for man, woman, child, and suffragette, are to adorn thelingerie-laden counters in our great department shops. 

It is, then, with animation and confidence that the author politelyoffers to a regenerated nation this modern, moral, literary, and highlyscientific work, thinly but ineffectually disguised as fiction, indeference to the prejudices of a few old-fashioned story-readers whostill survive among us. 

R. W. C. 

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. An Idyl of the IdleII. The IdlerIII. The Green MouseIV. An Ideal IdolV. SacharissaVI. In WrongVII. The Invisible WireVIII. "In Heaven and Earth"IX. A Cross-town CarX. The Lid OffXI. BettyXII. SybillaXIII. The Crown PrinceXIV. Gentlemen of the PressXV. DrusillaXVI. Flavilla

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"She almost wished some fisherman might come into view"

"'Those squirrels are very tame, ' she observed calmly"

"'Are you not terribly impatient?' she inquired"

"The lid of the basket tilted a little. .. . Then a plaintive voice said'Meow-w!'"

"'I'm afraid, ' he ventured, 'that I may require that table for cutting'"

"'Perhaps, ' he said, 'I had better hold your pencil again'"

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I

AN IDYL OF THE IDYL

_In Which a Young Man Arrives at His Last Ditch and a Young Girl JumpsOver It_

Utterly unequipped for anything except to ornament his environment, thecrash in Steel stunned him. Dazed but polite, he remained a passiveobserver of the sale which followed and which apparently realizedsufficient to satisfy every creditor, but not enough for an income tocontinue a harmlessly idle career which he had supposed was to continueindefinitely. 

He had never earned a penny; he had not the vaguest idea of how peoplemade money. To do something, however, was absolutely necessary. 

He wasted some time in finding out just how much aid he might expect fromhis late father's friends, but when he understood the attitude of societytoward a knocked-out gentleman he wisely ceased to annoy society, andturned to the business world. 

Here he wasted some more time. Perhaps the time was not absolutelywasted, for during that period he learned that he could use nobody whocould not use him; and as he appeared to be perfectly useless, except forornament, and as a business house is not a kindergarten, and furthermore, as he had neither time nor money to attend any school where anybody couldteach him anything, it occurred to him to take a day off for minute andthorough self-examination concerning his qualifications and even hisright to occupy a few feet of space upon the earth's surface. 

Four years at Harvard, two more in postgraduate courses, two more inEurope to perfect himself in electrical engineering, and a year at homeattempting to invent a wireless apparatus for intercepting andtransmitting psychical waves had left him pitifully unfit for wageearning. 

There remained his accomplishments; but the market was overstocked withassorted time-killers. 

His last asset was a trivial though unusual talent--a natural manualdexterity cultivated since childhood to amuse himself--something he nevertook seriously. This, and a curious control over animals, had, as thepleasant years flowed by, become an astonishing skill which was much morethan sleight of hand; and he, always as good-humored as well-bred, hadnever refused to amuse the frivolous, of which he was also one, bypicking silver dollars out of space and causing the proper card to fallfluttering from the ceiling. 

Day by day, as the little money left him melted away, he continued hisvigorous mental examination, until the alarming shrinkage in his fundsleft him staring fixedly at his last asset. Could he use it? Was it anasset, after all? How clever was he? Could he face an audience andperform the usual magician tricks without bungling? A slip by a careless, laughing, fashionable young amateur amusing his social equals at a houseparty is excusable; a bungle by a hired professional meant an end to hopein that direction. 

So he rented a suite of two rooms on Central Park West, furnished themwith what remained from better days, bought the necessary paraphernaliaof his profession, and immured himself for practice before entering uponhis contemplated invasion of Newport, Lenox, and Bar Harbor. And one verylovely afternoon in May, when the Park from his windows looked like agreen forest, and puff on puff of perfumed air fluttered the curtains athis opened windows, he picked up his gloves and stick, put on his hat, and went out to walk in the Park; and when he had walked sufficiently hesat down on a bench in a flowery, bushy nook on the edge of a bridlepath. 

Few people disturbed the leafy privacy; a policeman sauntering southwardnoted him, perhaps for future identification. The spectacle of a well-built, well-groomed, and fashionable young man sitting moodily upon apark bench was certainly to be noted. It is not the fashion forfashionable people to sit on park benches unless they contemplate self, as well as social, destruction. 

So the policeman lingered for a while in the vicinity, but not hearingany revolver shot, presently sauntered on, buck-skinned fist claspedbehind his broad back, squinting at a distant social gathering composedentirely of the most exclusive nursemaids. 

The young man looked up into the pleasant blue above, then hispreoccupied gaze wandered from woodland to thicket, where the scarletglow of Japanese quince mocked the colors of the fluttering scarlettanagers; where orange-tinted orioles flashed amid tangles of goldenForsythia; and past the shrubbery to an azure corner of water, shimmeringunder the wooded slope below. 

That sense of languor and unrest, of despondency threaded by hope whichfair skies and sunshine and new leaves bring with the young year to theyoung, he felt. Yet there was no bitterness in his brooding, for he was asingularly generous young man, and there was no vindictiveness mixed withthe memories of his failures among those whose cordial respect for hisfather had been balanced between that blameless gentleman's wealth andposition. 

A gray squirrel came crawling and nosing through the fresh grass; hecaught its eyes, and, though the little animal was plainly boundelsewhere on important business, the young man soon had it curled up onhis knee, asleep. 

For a while he amused himself by using his curious power, alternatelywaking the squirrel and allowing it to bound off, tail twitching, andthen calling it back, slowly but inexorably to climb his trousers andcurl up on his knee and sleep an uncanny and deep sleep which might endonly at the young man's pleasure. 

He, too, began to feel the subtle stillness of the drowsing woodland;musing there, caressing his short, crisp mustache, he watched the purplegrackle walking about in iridescent solitude, the sun spots waning andglowing on the grass; he heard the soft, garrulous whimper of waterfowlalong the water's edge, the stir of leaves above. 

He thought of various personal matters: his poverty, the low ebb of hisbalance at the bank, his present profession, his approaching début as anentertainer, the chances of his failure. He thought, too, of theastounding change in his life, the future, vacant of promise, devoid ofmeaning, a future so utterly new and blank that he could find in itnothing to speculate upon. He thought also, and perfectly impersonally, of a girl whom he had met now and then upon the stairs of the apartmenthouse which he now inhabited. 

Evidently there had been an ebb in her prosperity; the tumble of a NewYorker's fortune leads from the Avenue to the Eighties, from thencethrough Morristown, Staten Island, to the West Side. Besides, she paintedpictures; he knew the aroma of fixitive, siccative, and burnt sienna; andher studio adjoined his sky drawing-room. 

He thought of this girl quite impersonally; she resembled a youthfulbeauty he had known--might still know if he chose; for a man who can payfor his evening clothes need never deny himself the society he was bredto. 

She certainly did resemble that girl--she had the same bluish violeteyes, the same white and deeply fringed lids, the same free grace ofcarriage, a trifle too boyish at times--the same firmly rounded, yetslender, figure. 

"Now, as a matter of fact, " he mused aloud, stroking the sleepingsquirrel on his knee, "I could have fallen in love with either of thosegirls--before Copper blew up. "

Pursuing his innocuous meditation he nodded to himself: "I rather likethe poor one better than any girl I ever saw. Doubtless she paintsportraits over solar prints. That's all right; she's doing more than Ihave done yet. .. . I approve of those eyes of hers; they're like the eyesof that waking Aphrodite in the Luxembourg. If she would only just lookat me once instead of looking through me when we pass one another in thehall----"

The deadened gallop of a horse on the bridle path caught his ear. Thehorse was coming fast--almost too fast. He laid the sleeping squirrel onthe bench, listened, then instinctively stood up and walked to thethicket's edge. 

What happened was too quick for him to comprehend; he had a vision of abig black horse, mane and tail in the wind, tearing madly, straight athim--a glimpse of a white face, desperate and set, a flutter of loosenedhair; then a storm of wind and sand roared in his ears; he was hurled, jerked, and flung forward, dragged, shaken, and left half senseless, hanging to nose and bit of a horse whose rider was picking herself out ofa bush covered with white flowers. 

Half senseless still, he tightened his grip on the bit, released thegrasp on the creature's nose, and, laying his hand full on the forelock, brought it down twice and twice across the eyes, talking to the horse inhalting, broken whispers. 

When he had the trembling animal under control he looked around; the girlstood on the grass, dusty, dirty, disheveled, bleeding from a cut on thecheek bone; the most bewildered and astonished creature he had everlooked upon. 

"It will be all right in a few minutes, " he said, motioning her to thebench on the asphalt walk. She nodded, turned, picked up his hat, and, seating herself, began to smooth the furred nap with her sleeve, watchinghim intently all the while. That he already had the confidence of a horsethat he had never before seen was perfectly apparent. Little by littlethe sweating, quivering limbs were stilled, the tense muscles in the neckrelaxed, the head sank, dusty velvet lips nibbled at his hand, hisshoulder; the heaving, sunken flanks filled and grew quiet. 

Bareheaded, his attire in disorder and covered with slaver and sand, theyoung man laid the bridle on the horse's neck, held out his hand, and, saying "Come, " turned his back and walked down the bridle path. The horsestretched a sweating neck, sniffed, pricked forward both small ears, andslowly followed, turning as the man turned, up and down, crowding at heellike a trained dog, finally stopping on the edge of the walk. 

The young man looped the bridle over a low maple limb, and leaving thehorse standing sauntered over to the bench. 

"That horse, " he said pleasantly, "is all right now; but the question is, are you all right?"

She rose, handing him his hat, and began to twist up her bright hair. Fora few moments' silence they were frankly occupied in restoring order toraiment, dusting off gravel and examining rents. 

"I'm tremendously grateful, " she said abruptly. 

"I am, too, " he said in that attractive manner which sets people ofsimilar caste at ease with one another. 

"Thank you; it's a generous compliment, considering your hat andclothing. "

He looked up; she stood twisting her hair and doing her best with the fewremaining hair pegs. 

"I'm a sight for little fishes, " she said, coloring. "Did that wretchedbeast bruise you?"

"Oh, no----"

"You limped!"

"Did I?" he said vaguely. "How do you feel?"

"There is, " she said, "a curious, breathless flutter all over me; if thatis fright, I suppose I'm frightened, but I don't mind mounting at once--if you would put me up----"

"Better wait a bit, " he said; "it would not do to have that horse feel afluttering pulse, telegraphing along the snaffle. Tell me, are youspurred?"

She lifted the hem of her habit; two small spurs glittered on herpolished boot heels. 

"That's it, you see, " he observed; "you probably have not ridden crosssaddle very long. When your mount swerved you spurred, and he bolted, bitin teeth. "

"That's exactly it, " she admitted, looking ruefully at her spurs. Thenshe dropped her skirt, glanced interrogatively at him, and, obeying hisgrave gesture, seated herself again upon the bench. 

"Don't stand, " she said civilly. He took the other end of the seat, lifting the still slumbering squirrel to his knee. 

"I--I haven't said very much, " she began; "I'm impulsive enough to beovergrateful and say too much. I hope you understand me; do you?"

"Of course; you're very good. It was nothing; you could have stopped yourhorse yourself. People do that sort of thing for one another as a matterof course. "

"But not at the risk you took----"

"No risk at all, " he said hastily. 

She thought otherwise, and thought it so fervently that, afraid ofemotion, she turned her cold, white profile to him and studied her horse, haughty lids adroop. The same insolent sweetness was in her eyes whenthey again reverted to him. He knew the look; he had encountered it oftenenough in the hallway and on the stairs. He knew, too, that she mustrecognize him; yet, under the circumstances, it was for her to speakfirst; and she did not, for she was at that age when horror of overdoinganything chokes back the scarcely extinguished childish instinct to saytoo much. In other words, she was eighteen and had had her first seasonthe winter past--the winter when he had not been visible among thegatherings of his own kind. 

[Illustration: "'Those squirrels are very tame, ' she observed calmly. "]

"Those squirrels are very tame, " she observed calmly. 

"Not always, " he said. "Try to hold this one, for example. "

She raised her pretty eyebrows, then accepted the lump of fluffy fur fromhis hands. Instantly an electric shock seemed to set the squirrelfrantic, there was a struggle, a streak of gray and white, and thesquirrel leaped from her lap and fairly flew down the asphalt path. 

"Gracious!" she exclaimed faintly; "what was the matter?"

"Some squirrels are very wild, " he said innocently. 

"I know--but you held him--he was asleep on your knee. Why didn't he staywith me?"

"Oh, perhaps because I have a way with animals. "

"With horses, too, " she added gayly. And the smile breaking from herviolet eyes silenced him in the magic of a beauty he had never dreamedof. At first she mistook his silence for modesty; then--because even asyoung a maid as she is quick to divine and fine of instinct--she too fellsilent and serious, the while the shuttles of her reason flew likelightning, weaving the picture of him she had conceived--a gentleman, aman of her own sort, rather splendid and wise and bewildering. Theportrait completed, there was no room for the hint of presumption she hadhalf sensed in the brown eyes' glance that had set her alert; and shelooked up at him again, frankly, a trifle curiously. 

"I am going to thank you once more, " she said, "and ask you to put me up. There is not a flutter of fear in my pulse now. "

"Are you quite sure?"

"Perfectly. "

They arose; he untied the horse and beckoned it to the walk's edge. 

"I forgot, " she said, laughing, "that I am riding cross saddle. I canmount without troubling you--" She set her toe to the stirrup which heheld, and swung herself up into the saddle with a breezy "Thanks, awfully, " and sat there gathering her bridle. 

Had she said enough? How coldly her own thanks rang in her ears--forperhaps he had saved her neck--and perhaps not. Busy with curb andsnaffle reins, head bent, into her oval face a tint of color crept. Didhe think she treated lightly, flippantly, the courage which became himso? Or was he already bored by her acknowledgment of it? Sensitive, dreading to expose youth and inexperience to the amused smile of thisattractive young man of the world, she sat fumbling with her bridle, conscious that he stood beside her, hat in hand, looking up at her. Shecould delay no longer; the bridle had been shifted and reshifted to thelast second of procrastination. She must say something or go. 

Meeting his eyes, she smiled and leaned a little forward in her saddle asthough to speak, but his brown eyes troubled her, and all she could saywas "Thank you--good-by, " and galloped off down the vista through dim, leafy depths heavy with the incense of lilac and syringa. 

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II

THE IDLER

_Concerning the Young Man in the Ditch and His Attempts to Get Out of It_

Although he was not vindictive, he did not care to owe anything toanybody who might be inclined to give him a hearing on account of formerobligations or his social position. Everybody knew he had gone to smash;everybody, he very soon discovered, was naturally afraid of beingbothered by him. The dread of the overfed that an underfed member of thecommunity may request a seat at the table he now understood perfectly. Hewas learning. 

So he solicited aid from nobody whom he had known in former days; neitherfrom those who had aided him when he needed no aid, nor those who owedtheir comfortable position to the generosity of his father--a gentlemannotorious for making fortunes for his friends. 

Therefore he wrote to strangers on a purely business basis--to amazingtypes lately emerged from the submerged, bulging with coal money, steelmoney, copper money, wheat money, stockyard money--types that gallopedfor Fifth Avenue to build town houses; that shook their long cars andfrisked into the country and built "cottages. " And this was how he putit:

"_Madam:_ In case you desire to entertain guests with the professionalservices of a magician it would give me pleasure to place my very unusualaccomplishments at your disposal. "

And signed his name. 

It was a dreadful drain on his bank account to send several thousandengraved cards about town and fashionable resorts. No replies came. Dayafter day, exhausted with the practice drill of his profession, he walkedto the Park and took his seat on the bench by the bridle path. Sometimeshe saw her cantering past; she always acknowledged his salute, but neverdrew bridle. At times, too, he passed her in the hall; her colorless"Good morning" never varied except when she said "Good evening. " And allthis time he never inquired her name from the hall servant; he was thatsort of man--decent through instinct; for even breeding sometimes permitssentiment to snoop. 

For a week he had been airily dispensing with more than one meal a day;to keep clothing and boots immaculate required a sacrifice of breakfastand luncheon--besides, he had various small pensioners to feed, whiterabbits with foolish pink eyes, canary birds, cats, albino mice, goldfish, and other collaborateurs in his profession. He was obliged tobribe the janitor, too, because the laws of the house permitted neitheranimals nor babies within its precincts. This extra honorarium deprivedhim of tobacco, and he became a pessimist. 

Besides, doubts as to his own ability arose within him; it was all verywell to practice his magic there alone, but he had not yet tried it onanybody except the janitor; and when he had begun by discovering severalred-eyed rabbits in the janitor's pockets that intemperate functionaryfled with a despondent yell that brought a policeman to the area gatewith a threat to pull the place. 

At length, however, a letter came engaging him for one evening. He wasquite incredulous at first, then modestly scared, perplexed, exultant anddepressed by turns. Here was an opening--the first. And because it wasthe first its success or failure meant future engagements or consignmentsto the street, perhaps as a white-wing. There must be no faltering now, no bungling, no mistakes, no amateurish hesitation. It is the empty-headed who most strenuously demand intelligence in others. One yawn fromsuch an audience meant his professional damnation--he knew that; everysecond must break like froth in a wine glass; an instant's perplexity, aslackening of the tension, and those flaccid intellects would relax intonative inertia. Incapable of self-amusement, depending utterly uponsuperior minds for a respite from ennui, their caprice controlled hisfate; and he knew it. 

Sitting there by the sunny window with a pair of magnificent whitePersian cats purring on either knee, he read and reread the lettersummoning him on the morrow to Seabright. He knew who his hostess was--alarge lady lately emerged from a corner in lard, dragging with her someassorted relatives of atrophied intellects and a husband whose onlymental pleasure depended upon the speed attained by his racing car--themost exacting audience he could dare to confront. 

Like the White Knight he had had plenty of practice, but he feared thatwarrior's fate; and as he sat there he picked up a bunch of silver hoops, tossed them up separately so that they descended linked in a glitteringchain, looped them and unlooped them, and, tiring, thoughtfully tossedthem toward the ceiling again, where they vanished one by one in mid-air. 

The cats purred; he picked up one, molded her carefully in his handsomehands; and presently, under the agreeable massage, her purring increasedwhile she dwindled and dwindled to the size of a small, fluffy kitten, then vanished entirely, leaving in his hand a tiny white mouse. Thismouse he tossed into the air, where it became no mouse at all but a whitebutterfly that fluttered 'round and 'round, alighting at last on thewindow curtain and hung there, opening and closing its snowy wings. 

"That's all very well, " he reflected, gloomily, as, at a pass of hishand, the air was filled with canary birds; "that's all very well, butsuppose I should slip up? What I need is to rehearse to somebody before Iface two or three hundred people. "

He thought he heard a knocking on his door, and listened a moment. But asthere was an electric bell there he concluded he had been mistaken; andpicking up the other white cat, he began a gentle massage that stimulatedher purring, apparently at the expense of her color and size, for in afew moments she also dwindled until she became a very small, coal-blackkitten, changing in a twinkling to a blackbird, when he cast hercarelessly toward the ceiling. It was well done; in all India no magiciancould have done it more cleverly, more casually. 

Leaning forward in his chair he reproduced the two white cats from behindhim, put the kittens back in their box, caught the blackbird and cagedit, and was carefully winding up the hairspring in the white butterfly, when again he fancied that somebody was knocking. 

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III

THE GREEN MOUSE

_Showing the Value of a Helping Hand When It Is White and Slender_

This time he went leisurely to the door and opened it; a girl stoodthere, saying, "I beg your pardon for disturbing you--" It was high timeshe admitted it, for her eyes had been disturbing him day and night sincethe first time he passed her in the hall. 

She appeared to be a trifle frightened, too, and, scarcely waiting forhis invitation, she stepped inside with a hurried glance behind her, andwalked to the center of the room holding her skirts carefully as thoughstepping through wet grass. 

"I--I am annoyed, " she said in a voice not perfectly under command. "Ifyou please, would you tell me whether there is such a thing as a pea-green mouse?"

Then he did a mean thing; he could have cleared up that matter with aword, a smile, and--he didn't. 

"A green mouse?" he repeated gently, almost pitifully. 

She nodded, then paled; he drew a big chair toward her, for her kneestrembled a little; and she sat down with an appealing glance that oughtto have made him ashamed of himself. 

"What has frightened you?" inquired that meanest of men. 

"I was in my studio--and I must first explain to you that for weeks andweeks I--I have imagined I heard sounds--" She looked carefully aroundher; nothing animate was visible. "Sounds, " she repeated, swallowing alittle lump in her white throat, "like the faint squealing and squeakingand sniffing and scratching of--of live things. I asked the janitor, andhe said the house was not very well built and that the beams andwainscoting were shrinking. "

"Did he say that?" inquired the young man, thinking of the bribes. 

"Yes, and I tried to believe him. And one day I thought I heard about onehundred canaries singing, and I know I did, but that idiot janitor saidthey were the sparrows under the eaves. Then one day when your door wasopen, and I was coming up the stairway, and it was dark in the entry, something big and soft flopped across the carpet, and--it beingexceedingly common to scream--I didn't, but managed to get past it, and"--her violet eyes widened with horror--"do you know what that soft, floppything was? It was an owl!"

He was aware of it; he had managed to secure the escaped bird before herelectric summons could arouse the janitor. 

"I called the janitor, " she said, "and he came and we searched the entry;but there was no owl. "

He appeared to be greatly impressed; she recognized the sympathy in hisbrown eyes. 

"That wretched janitor declared I had seen a cat, " she resumed; "and Icould not persuade him otherwise. For a week I scarcely dared set foot onthe stairs, but I had to--you see, I live at home and only come to mystudio to paint. "

"I thought you lived here, " he said, surprised. 

"Oh, no. I have my studio--" she hesitated, then smiled. "Everybody makesfun of me, and I suppose they'll laugh me out of it, but I detestconventions, and I did hope I had talent for something besidesfrivolity. "

Her gaze wandered around his room; then suddenly the possiblesignificance of her unconventional situation brought her to her feet, serious but self-possessed. 

"I beg your pardon again, " she said, "but I was really driven out of mystudio--quite frightened, I confess. "

"What drove you out?" he asked guiltily. 

"Something--you can scarcely credit it--and I dare not tell the janitorfor fear he will think me--queer. " She raised her distressed and lovelyeyes again: "Oh, please believe that I _did_ see a bright green mouse!"

"I do believe it, " he said, wincing. 

"Thank you. I--I know perfectly well how it sounds--and I know thathorrid people see things like that, but"--she spoke piteously--"I hadonly one glass of claret at luncheon, and I am perfectly healthy in bodyand mind. How could I see such a thing if it was not there?"

"It was there, " he declared. 

"Do you really think so? A green--bright green mouse?"

"Haven't a doubt of it, " he assured her; "saw one myself the other day. "

"Where?"

"On the floor--" he made a vague gesture. "There's probably a crackbetween your studio and my wall, and the little rascal crept into yourplace. "

She stood looking at him uncertainly: "Are there really such things asgreen mice?"

"Well, " he explained, "I fancy this one was originally white. Somebodyprobably dyed it green. "

"But who on earth would be silly enough to do such a thing?"

His ears grew red--he felt them doing it. 

After a moment she said: "I am glad you told me that you, too, saw thisunspeakable mouse. I have decided to write to the owners of the house andrequest an immediate investigation. Would--would it be too much to askyou to write also?"

"Are you--you going to write?" he asked, appalled. 

"Certainly. Either some dreadful creature here keeps a bird store andbrings home things that escape, or the house is infested. I don't carewhat the janitor says; I did hear squeals and whines and whimpers!"

"Suppose--suppose we wait, " he began lamely; but at that moment her blueeyes widened; she caught him convulsively by the arm, pointing, one snowyfinger outstretched. 

"Oh-h!" she said hysterically, and the next instant was standing upon achair, pale as a ghost. It was a wonder she had not mounted the dresser, too, for there, issuing in creepy single file from the wainscoting, camemice--mice of various tints. A red one led the grewsome rank, a black andwhite one came next, then in decorous procession followed the guiltygreen one, a yellow one, a blue one, and finally--horror of horrors!--ared-white-and-blue mouse, carrying a tiny American flag. 

He turned a miserable face toward her; she, eyes dilated, frozen to astatue, saw him advance, hold out a white wand--saw the uncannyprocession of mice mount the stick and form into a row, tails hangingdown--saw him carry the creatures to a box and dump them in. 

He was trying to speak now. She heard him stammer something about theescape of the mice; she heard him asking her pardon. Dazed, she laid herhand in his as he aided her to descend to the floor; nerveless, speechless, she sank into the big chair, horror still dilating her eyes. 

"It's all up with me, " he said slowly, "if you write to the owners. I'vebribed the janitor to say nothing. I'm dreadfully mortified that thesethings have happened to annoy you. "

The color came back into her face; amazement dominated her anger. "Butwhy--why do you keep such creatures?"

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked. "It is my profession. "

"Your--what?"

"My profession, " he repeated doggedly. 

"Oh, " she said, revolted, "that is not true! You are a gentleman--I knowwho you are perfectly well!"

"Who am I?"

She called him by name, almost angrily. 

"Well, " he said sullenly, "what of it? If you have investigated my recordyou must know I am as poor as these miserable mice. "

"I--I know it. But you are a gentleman----"

"I am a mountebank, " he said; "I mean a mountebank in its originalinterpretation. There's neither sense nor necessity for me to deny it. "

"I--I don't understand you, " she whispered, shocked. 

"Why, I do monkey tricks to entertain people, " he replied, forcing alaugh, "or rather, I hope to do a few--and be paid for them. I fancyevery man finds his own level; I've found mine, apparently. "

Her face was inscrutable; she lay back in the great chair, watching him. 

"I have a little money left, " he said; "enough to last a day or two. ThenI am to be paid for entertaining some people at Seabright; and, " he addedwith that very attractive smile of his from which all bitterness haddeparted, "and that will be the first money I ever earned in all mylife. "

She was young enough to be fascinated, child enough to feel the littlelump in her throat rising. She knew he was poor; her sisters had told herthat; but she had supposed it to be only comparative poverty--just as hercousins, for instance, had scarcely enough to keep more than two horsesin town and only one motor. But want--actual need--she had never dreamedof in his case--she could scarcely understand it even now--he was so wellgroomed, so attractive, fairly radiating good breeding and the easyfinancial atmosphere she was accustomed to. 

"So you see, " he continued gayly, "if you complain to the owners aboutgreen mice, why, I shall have to leave, and, as a matter of fact, Ihaven't enough money to go anywhere except--" he laughed. 

"Where?" she managed to say. 

"The Park. I was joking, of course, " he hastened to add, for she hadturned rather white. 

"No, " she said, "you were not joking. " And as he made no reply: "Ofcourse, I shall not write--now. I had rather my studio were overrun withmulticolored mice--" She stopped with something almost like a sob. Hesmiled, thinking she was laughing. 

But oh, the blow for her! In her youthful enthusiasm she had always, fromthe first time they had encountered one another, been sensitively awareof this tall, clean-cut, attractive young fellow. And by and by shelearned his name and asked her sisters about him, and when she heard ofhis recent ruin and withdrawal from the gatherings of his kind her youthflushed to its romantic roots, warming all within her toward thissplendid and radiant young man who lived so nobly, so proudly aloof. Andthen--miracle of Manhattan!--he had proved his courage before her dazedeyes--rising suddenly out of the very earth to save her from a fate whichher eager desire painted blacker every time she embellished the incident. And she decorated the memory of it every day. 

And now! Here, beside her, was this prince among men, her champion, beaten to his ornamental knees by Fate, and contemplating a miserable, uncertain career to keep his godlike body from actual starvation. Andshe--she with more money than even she knew what to do with, powerless toaid him, prevented from flinging open her check book and bidding him towrite and write till he could write no more. 

A memory--a thought crept in. Where had she heard his name connected withher father's name? In Ophir Steel? Certainly; and was it not this youngman's father who had laid the foundation for her father's fortune? Shehad heard some such thing, somewhere. 

He said: "I had no idea of boring anybody--you least of all--with mywoes. Indeed, I haven't any sorrows now, because to-day I received myfirst encouragement; and no doubt I'll be a huge success. Only--I thoughtit best to make it clear why it would do me considerable damage just nowif you should write. "

"Tell me, " she said tremulously, "is there anything--anything I can doto--to balance the deep debt of gratitude I owe you----"

"What debt?" he asked, astonished. "Oh! that? Why, that is no debt--except that I was happy--perfectly and serenely happy to have had thatchance to--to hear your voice----"

"You were brave, " she said hastily. "You may make as light of it as youplease, but I know. "

"So do I, " he laughed, enchanted with the rising color in her cheeks. 

"No, you don't; you don't know how I felt--how afraid I was to show howdeeply--deeply I felt. I felt it so deeply that I did not even tell mysisters, " she added naively. 

"Your sisters?"

"Yes; you know them. " And as he remained silent she said: "Do you notknow who I am? Do you not even know my name?"

He shook his head, laughing. 

"I'd have given all I had to know; but, of course, I could not ask theservants!"

Surprise, disappointment, hurt pride that he had had no desire to knowgave quick place to a comprehension that set a little thrill tingling herfrom head to foot. His restraint was the nicest homage ever rendered her;she saw that instantly; and the straight look she gave him out of herclear eyes took his breath away for a second. 

"Do you remember Sacharissa?" she asked. 

"I do--certainly! I always thought----"

"What?" she said, smiling. 

He muttered something about eyes and white skin and a trick of the heavylids. 

She was perfectly at ease now; she leaned back in her chair, studying himcalmly. 

"Suppose, " she said, "people could see me here now. "

"It would end your artistic career, " he replied, laughing; "and fancy! Itook you for the sort that painted for a bare existence!"

"And I--I took you for----"

"Something very different than what I am. "

"In one way--not in others. "

"Oh! I look the mountebank?"

"I shall not explain what I mean, " she said with heightened color, androse from her chair. "As there are no more green mice to peep out at mefrom behind my easel, " she added, "I can have no excuse from abandoningart any longer. Can I?"

The trailing sweetness of the inquiry was scarcely a challenge, yet hedared take it up. 

"You asked me, " he said, "whether you could do anything for me. "

"Can I?" she exclaimed. 

"Yes. "

"I will--I am glad--tell me what to do?"

"Why, it's only this. I've got to go before an audience of two hundredpeople and do things. I've had practice here by myself, but--but if youdon't mind I should like to try it before somebody--you. Do you mind?"

She stood there, slim, blue-eyed, reflecting; then innocently: "If I'vecompromised myself the damage was done long ago, wasn't it? They're goingto take away my studio anyhow, so I might as well have as much pleasureas I can. "

And she sat down, gracefully, linking her white fingers over her knees. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

IV

AN IDEAL IDOL

_A Chapter Devoted to the Proposition that All Mankind Are Born of Woman_

He began by suddenly filling the air with canary birds; they flew andchirped and fluttered about her head, until, bewildered, she shrank back, almost frightened at the golden hurricane. 

To reassure her he began doing incredible things with the big silverhoops, forming chains and linked figures under her amazed eyes, althougheach hoop seemed solid and without a break in its polished circumference. Then, one by one, he tossed the rings up and they vanished in mid-airbefore her very eyes. 

"How did you do that?" she cried, enchanted. 

He laughed and produced the big, white Persian cats, changed them intokittens, then into birds and butterflies, and finally into a bowl full ofbig, staring goldfish. Then he picked up a ladle, dipped out the fish, carefully fried them over an electric lamp, dumped them from the smokingfrying pan back into the water, where they quietly swam off again, goggling their eyes in astonishment. 

"That, " said the girl, excitedly, "is miraculous!"

"Isn't it?" he said, delighted as a boy at her praise. "What card willyou choose?"

And he handed her a pack. 

"The ace of hearts, if you please. "

"Draw it from the pack. "

"Any card?" she inquired. "Oh! how on earth did you make me draw the aceof hearts?"

"Hold it tightly, " he warned her. 

She clutched it in her pretty fingers. 

"Are you sure you hold it?" he asked. 

"Perfectly. "

"Look!"

She looked and found that it was the queen of diamonds she held sotightly; but, looking again to reassure herself, she was astonished tofind that the card was the jack of clubs. "Tear it up, " he said. She toreit into small pieces. 

"Throw them into the air!"

She obeyed, and almost cried out to see them take fire in mid-air andfloat away in ashy flakes. 

Face flushed, eyes brilliant, she turned to him, hanging on his everymovement, every expression. 

Before her rapt eyes the multicolored mice danced jigs on slack wires, then were carefully rolled up into little balls of paper whichimmediately began to swell until each was as big as a football. Theseburst open, and out of each football of white paper came kittens, turtles, snakes, chickens, ducks, and finally two white rabbits withsilly pink eyes that began gravely waltzing round and round the room. 

"Please stand up and shake your skirts, " he said. 

She rose hastily and obeyed; a rain of silver coins fell, then gold, thenbanknotes, littering the floor. Then precious stones began to drop abouther; she shook them from her hair, her collar, her neck; she clenched herhands in nervous amazement, but inside each tight little fist she feltsomething, and opening her fingers she fairly showered the floor withdiamonds. 

"Can't you save one for me?" he asked. "I really need it. " But when againshe looked for the glittering heap at her feet, it was gone; and, searchas she might, not one coin, not one gem remained. 

Glancing up in dismay she found herself in a perfect storm of whitebutterflies--no, they were red--no, green!

"Is there anything in this world you desire?" he asked her. 

"A--a glass of water----"

She was already holding it in her hands, and she cried out in amazement, spilling the brimming glass; but no water fell, only a rain of littlecrimson flames. 

"I can't--can't drink this--can I?" she faltered. 

"With perfect safety, " he smiled, and she tasted it. 

"Taste it again, " he said. 

She tried it; it was lemonade. 

"Again. "

It was ginger ale. 

"Once more. "

She stared at the glass, frothing with ice-cream soda; there was a longsilver spoon in it, too. 

Enchanted, she lay back, savoring her ice, shyly watching him. 

He went on gayly doing uncanny or charming things; her eyes were tired, dazzled, but not too weary to watch him, though she scarcely followed themarvelous objects that appeared and vanished and glittered and flamedunder his ceaselessly busy hands. 

She did notice with a shudder the appearance of an owl that sat for awhile on his shoulder and then turned into a big fur muff which was allright as long as he held it, but walked away on four legs when he tossedit to the floor. 

A shower of brilliant things followed like shooting stars; two or threerose trees grew, budded, and bloomed before her eyes; and he laid thefresh, sweet blossoms in her hands. They turned to violets later, butthat did not matter; nothing mattered any longer as long as she could liethere and gaze at him--the most splendid man her maiden eyes had everunclosed upon. 

About two thousand yards of brilliant ribbons suddenly fell from theceiling; she looked at him with something perilously close to a sigh. Outof an old hat he produced a cage full of parrots; every parrot repeatedher first name decorously, monotonously, until packed back into the hatand stuffed into a box which was then set on fire. 

Her heart was pretty full now; for she was only eighteen and she had beenconsidering his poverty. So when in due time the box burned out and fromthe black and charred _débris_ the parrots stepped triumphantly forth, gravely repeating her name in unison; and when she saw that theentertainment was at an end, she rose, setting her ice-cream soda upon atable, and, although the glass instantly changed into a teapot, shewalked straight up to him and held out her hand. 

"I've had a perfectly lovely time, " she said. "And I want to say to youthat I have been thinking of several things, and one is that it isperfectly ridiculous for you to be poor. "

"It is rather ridiculous, " he admitted, surprised. "Isn't it! And no needof it at all. Your father made a fortune for my father. All you have todo is to let my father make a fortune for you. "

"Is that all?" he asked, laughing. 

"Of course. Why did you not tell him so? Have you seen him?"

"No, " he said gravely. 

"Why not?"

"I saw others--I did not care to try--any more--friends. "

"Will you--now?"

He shook his head. 

"Then I will. "

"Please don't, " he said quietly. Her hand still lay in his; she looked upat him; her eyes were starry bright and a little moist. 

"I simply can't stand this, " she said, steadying her voice. 

"What?"

"Your--your distress--" She choked; her sensitive mouth trembled. 

"Good Heavens!" he breathed; "do you care!"

"Care--care, " she stammered. "You saved my life with a laugh! You facest-starvation with a laugh! Your father made mine! Care? Yes, I care!"

But she had bent her head; a bright tear fell, spangling his polishedshoes; the pulsating seconds passed; he laid his other hand above both ofhers which he held, and stood silent, stunned, scarcely daring tounderstand. 

Nor was it here he could understand or even hope--his instinct held himstupid and silent. Presently he released her hands. 

She said "Good-by" calmly enough; he followed her to the door and openedit, watching her pass through the hall to her own door. And there shepaused and looked back; and he found himself beside her again. 

"Only, " she began, "only don't do all those beautiful magic things forany--anybody else--will you? I wish to have--have them all for myself--toshare them with no one----"

He held her hands imprisoned again. "I will never do one of those thingsfor anybody but you, " he said unsteadily. 

"Truly?" Her face caught fire. 

"Yes, truly. "

"But how--how, then, can you--can----"

"I don't care what happens to me!" he said. To look at him nobody wouldhave thought him young enough to say that sort of thing. 

"I care, " she said, releasing her hands and stepping back into herstudio. 

For a moment her lovely, daring face swam before his eyes; then, in thenext moment, she was in his arms, crying her eyes out against hisshoulder, his lips pressed to her bright hair. 

And that was all right in its way, too; madder things have happened inour times; but nothing madder ever happened than a large, bald gentlemanwho came up the stairs in a series of bounces and planted his legs apartand tightened his pudgy grip upon his malacca walking stick, andconfronted them with distended eyes and waistband. 

In vigorous but incoherent English he begged to know whether this scenewas part of an education in art. 

"Papah, " she said calmly, "you are just in time. Go into the studio andI'll come in one moment. "

Then giving her lover both hands and looking at him with all her soul inher young eyes: "I love you; I'll marry you. And if there's trouble"--shesmiled upon her frantic father--"if there is trouble I will follow youabout the country exhibiting green mice----"

"What!" thundered her father. 

"Green mice, " she repeated with an adorable smile at her lover--"unlessmy father finds a necessity for you in his business--with a view topartnership. And I'm going to let you arrange that together. Good-by. "

And she entered her studio, closing the door behind her, leaving the twomen confronting one another in the entry. 

For one so young she had much wisdom and excellent taste; and listening, she heard her father explode in one lusty Saxon word. He always said itwhen beaten; it was the beginning of the end, and the end of the sweetestbeginning that ever dawned on earth for a maid since the first sunbeamstole into Eden. 

So she sat down on her little camp stool before her easel and picked up ahand glass; and, sitting there, carefully removed all traces of tearsfrom her wet and lovely eyes with the cambric hem of her painting apron. 

"Damnation!" repeated Mr. Carr, "am I to understand that the only thingyou can do for a living is to go about with a troupe of trained mice?"

"I've invented a machine, " observed the young man, modestly. "It ought tobe worth millions--if you'd care to finance it. "

"The idea is utterly repugnant to me!" shouted her father. 

The young man reddened. "If you wouldn't mind examining it--" He drewfrom his pocket a small, delicately contrived bit of clockwork. "This isthe machine----"

"I don't want to see it!"

"You _have_ seen it. Do you mind sitting down a moment? Be careful ofthat kitten! Kindly take this chair. Thank you. Now, if you would be goodenough to listen for ten minutes----"

"I don't want to be good enough! Do you hear!"

"Yes, I hear, " said young Destyn, patiently. "And as I was going toexplain, the earth is circumscribed by wireless currents ofelectricity----"

"I--dammit, sir----"

"But those are not the only invisible currents that are ceaselesslyflowing around our globe!" pursued the young man, calmly. "Do you seethis machine?"

"No, I don't!" snarled the other. 

"Then--" And, leaning closer, William Augustus Destyn whispered intoBushwyck Carr's fat, red ear. 

"What!!!"

"Certainly. "

"You can't _prove_ it!"

"Watch me. "

 * * * * *

Ethelinda had dried her eyes. Every few minutes she glanced anxiously atthe little French clock over her easel. 

"What on earth can they be doing?" she murmured. And when the long hourstruck she arose with resolution and knocked at the door. 

"Come in, " said her father, irritably, "but don't interrupt. William andI are engaged in a very important business transaction. "

[Illustration: ]

V

SACHARISSA

_Treating of Certain Scientific Events Succeeding the Wedding Journey ofWilliam and Ethelinda_

Sacharissa took the chair. She knew nothing about parliamentaryprocedure; neither did her younger, married sister, Ethelinda, nor therecently acquired family brother-in-law, William Augustus Destyn. 

"The meeting will come to order, " said Sacharissa, and her brother-in-lawreluctantly relinquished his new wife's hand--all but one finger. 

"Miss Chairman, " he began, rising to his feet. 

The chair recognized him and bit into a chocolate. 

"I move that our society be known as The Green Mouse, Limited. "

"Why limited?" asked Sacharissa. 

"Why not?" replied her sister, warmly. 

"Well, what does your young man mean by limited?"

"I suppose, " said Linda, "that he means it is to be the limit. Don't you, William?"

"Certainly, " said Destyn, gravely; and the motion was put and carried. 

"Rissa, dear!"

The chair casually recognized her younger sister. 

"I propose that the object of this society be to make its members very, very wealthy. "

The motion was carried; Linda picked up a scrap of paper and began tofigure up the possibility of a new touring car. 

Then Destyn arose; the chair nodded to him and leaned back, playing atattoo with her pencil tip against her snowy teeth. 

He began in his easy, agreeable voice, looking across at his pretty wife:

"You know, dearest--and Sacharissa, over there, is also aware--that, inthe course of my economical experiments in connection with your father'sWireless Trust, I have accidentally discovered how to utilize certainbrand-new currents of an extraordinary character. "

Sacharissa's expression became skeptical; Linda watched her husband inunfeigned admiration. 

"These new and hitherto unsuspected currents, " continued Destyn modestly, "are not electrical but psychical. Yet, like wireless currents, theirflow eternally encircles the earth. These currents, I believe, have theirorigin in that great unknown force which, for lack of a better name, wecall fate, or predestination. And I am convinced that by intercepting oneof these currents it is possible to connect the subconsciouspersonalities of two people of opposite sex who, although ultimatelydestined for one another since the beginning of things, have, throughsuccessive incarnations, hitherto missed the final consummation--marriage!--which was the purpose of their creation. "

"Bill, dear, " sighed Linda, "how exquisitely you explain the infinite. "

"Fudge!" said Sacharissa; "go on, William. "

"That's all, " said Destyn. "We agreed to put in a thousand dollars apiecefor me to experiment with. I've perfected the instrument--here it is. "

He drew from his waistcoat pocket a small, flat jeweler's case and tookout a delicate machine resembling the complicated interior of a watch. 

"Now, " he said, "with this tiny machine concealed in my waistcoat pocket, I walk up to any man and, by turning a screw like the stem of a watch, open the microscopical receiver. Into the receiver flow all psychicalemanations from that unsuspicious citizen. The machine is charged, positively. Then I saunter up to some man, place the instrument on atable--like that--touch a lever. Do you see that hair wire of Rosiumuncoil like a tentacle? It is searching, groping for the invisible, negative, psychical current which will carry its message. "

"To whom?" asked Sacharissa. 

"To the subconscious personality of the only woman for whom he wascreated, the only woman on earth whose psychic personality is properlyattuned to intercept that wireless greeting and respond to it. "

"How can you tell whether she responds?" asked Sacharissa, incredulously. He pointed to the hair wire of Rosium:

"I watch that. The instant that the psychical current reaches and awakensher, crack!--a minute point of blue incandescence tips the tentacle. It'sdone; psychical communication is established. And that man and thatwoman, wherever they may be on earth, surely, inexorably, will be drawntogether, even from the uttermost corners of the world, to fulfill thatfor which they were destined since time began. "

There was a semirespectful silence; Linda looked at the little jewel-likemachine with a slight shudder; Sacharissa shrugged her young shoulders. 

"How much of this, " said she, "is theory and how much is fact?--for, William, you always were something of a poet. "

"I don't know. A month ago I tried it on your father's footman, and in aweek he'd married a perfectly strange parlor maid. "

"Oh, they do such things, anyway, " observed Sacharissa, and added, unconvinced: "Did that tentacle burn blue?"

"It certainly did, " said Destyn. 

Linda murmured: "I believe in it. Let's issue stock. "

"To issue stock is one thing, " said Destyn, "to get people to buy it isanother. You and I may believe in Green Mouse, Limited, but the rest ofthe world is always from beyond the Mississippi. "

"The thing to do, " said Linda, "is to prove your theory by practicing onpeople. They may not like the idea, but they'll be so grateful, whenhappily and unexpectedly married, that they'll buy stock. "

"Or give us testimonials, " added Sacharissa, "that their bliss wasentirely due to a single dose of Green Mouse, Limited. "

"Don't be flippant, " said Linda. "Think what William's invention means tothe world! Think of the time it will save young men barking up wrongtrees! Think of the trouble saved--no more doubt, no timidity, nohesitation, no speculation, no opposition from parents. "

"Any of our clients, " added Destyn, "can be instantly switched on to aprivate psychical current which will clinch the only girl in the world. Engagements will be superfluous; those two simply can't get away fromeach other. "

"If that were true, " observed Sacharissa, "it would be most unpleasant. There would be no fun in it. However, " she added, smiling, "I don'tbelieve in your theory or your machine, William. It would take more thanthat combination to make me marry anybody. "

"Then we're not going to issue stock?" asked Linda. "I do need so manynew and expensive things. "

"We've got to experiment a little further, first, " said Destyn. 

Sacharissa laughed: "You blindfold me, give me a pencil and lay theSocial Register before me. Whatever name I mark you are to experimentwith. "

"Don't mark any of our friends, " began Linda. 

"How can I tell whom I may choose. It's fair for everybody. Come; do youpromise to abide by it--you two?"

They promised doubtfully. 

"So do I, then, " said Sacharissa. "Hurry up and blindfold me, somebody. The bus will be here in half an hour, and you know how father acts whenkept waiting. "

Linda tied her eyes with a handkerchief, gave her a pencil and seatedherself on an arm of the chair watching the pencil hovering over thepages of the Social Register which her sister was turning at hazard. 

"_This_ page, " announced Sacharissa, "and _this_ name!" marking it with aquick stroke. 

Linda gave a stifled cry and attempted to arrest the pencil; but themoving finger had written. 

"Whom have I selected?" inquired the girl, whisking the handkerchief fromher eyes. "What are you having a fit about, Linda?"

And, looking at the page, she saw that she had marked her own name. 

"We must try it again, " said Destyn, hastily. "That doesn't count. Tieher up, Linda. "

"But--that wouldn't be fair, " said Sacharissa, hesitating whether to takeit seriously or laugh. "We all promised, you know. I ought to abide bywhat I've done. "

"Don't be silly, " said Linda, preparing the handkerchief and laying itacross her sister's forehead. 

Sacharissa pushed it away. "I can't break my word, even to myself, " shesaid, laughing. "I'm not afraid of that machine. "

"Do you mean to say you are willing to take silly chances?" asked Linda, uneasily. "I believe in William's machine whether you do or not. And Idon't care to have any of the family experimented with. "

"If I were willing to try it on others it would be cowardly for me toback out now, " said Sacharissa, forcing a smile; for Destyn's and Linda'sseriousness was beginning to make her a trifle uncomfortable. 

"Unless you want to marry somebody pretty soon you'd better not risk it, "said Destyn, gravely. 

"You--you don't particularly care to marry anybody, just now, do you, dear?" asked Linda. "No, " replied her sister, scornfully. 

There was a silence; Sacharissa, uneasy, bit her underlip and sat lookingat the uncanny machine. 

She was a tall girl, prettily formed, one of those girls with long limbs, narrow, delicate feet and ankles. 

That sort of girl, when she also possesses a mass of chestnut hair, asweet mouth and gray eyes, is calculated to cause trouble. 

And there she sat, one knee crossed over the other, slim foot swinging, perplexed brows bent slightly inward. 

"I can't see any honorable way out of it, " she said resolutely. "I saidI'd abide by the blindfolded test. "

"When we promised we weren't thinking of ourselves, " insisted Ethelinda. 

"That doesn't release us, " retorted her Puritan sister. 

"Why?" demanded Linda. "Suppose, for example, your pencil had markedWilliam's name! That would have been im--immoral!"

"_Would_ it?" asked Sacharissa, turning her honest, gray eyes on herbrother-in-law. 

"I don't believe it would, " he said; "I'd only be switched on to Linda'scurrent again. " And he smiled at his wife. 

Sacharissa sat thoughtful and serious, swinging her foot. 

"Well, " she said, at length, "I might as well face it at once. If there'sanything in this instrument we'll all know it pretty soon. Turn on yourreceiver, Billy. "

"Oh, " cried Linda, tearfully, "don't you do it, William!"

"Turn it on, " repeated Sacharissa. "I'm not going to be a coward andbreak faith with myself, and you both know it! If I've got to go throughthe silliness of love and marriage I might as well know who the bandarlogis to be. .. . Anyway, I don't really believe in this thing. .. . I can'tbelieve in it. .. . Besides, I've a mind and a will of my own, and I fancyit will require more than amateur psychical experiments to change either. Go on, Billy. "

"You mean it?" he asked, secretly gratified. 

"Certainly, " with superb affectation of indifference. And she rose andfaced the instrument. 

Destyn looked at his wife. He was dying to try it. 

"Will!" she exclaimed, "suppose we are not going to like Rissa's possiblef--fiance! Suppose father doesn't like him!"

"You'll all probably like him as well as I shall, " said her sisterdefiantly. "Willy, stop making frightened eyes at your wife and startyour infernal machine!"

There was a vicious click, a glitter of shifting clockwork, a snap, andit was done. 

"Have you now, _theoretically_, got my psychical current bottled up?" sheasked disdainfully. But her lip trembled a little. 

He nodded, looking very seriously at her. 

"And now you are going to switch me on to this unknown gentleman'spsychical current?"

"Don't let him!" begged Linda. "Billy, dear, how _can_ you when nobodyhas the faintest idea who the creature may turn out to be!"

"Go ahead!" interrupted her sister, masking misgiving under a carelesssmile. 

Click! Up shot the glittering, quivering tentacle of Rosium, vibratingfor a few moments like a thread of silver. Suddenly it was tipped with ablue flash of incandescence. 

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! There he is!" cried Linda, excitedly. "Rissy! Rissy, little sister, _what_ have you done?"

"Nothing, " she said, catching her breath. "I don't believe that flashmeans anything. I don't feel a bit different--not the least bit. I feelperfectly well and perfectly calm. I don't love anybody and I'm not goingto love anybody--until I want to, and that will probably never happen. "

However, she permitted her sister to take her in her arms and pet her. Itwas rather curious how exceedingly young and inexperienced she felt. Shefound it agreeable to be fussed over and comforted and cradled, and for afew moments she suffered Linda's solicitude and misgivings in silence. After a while, however, she became ashamed. 

"Nothing is going to happen, Linda, " she said, looking dreamily up at theceiling; "don't worry, dear; I shall escape the bandarlog. "

"If something doesn't happen, " observed Destyn, pocketing his instrument, "the Green Mouse, Limited, will go into liquidation with no liabilitiesand no assets, and there'll be no billions for you or for me or foranybody. "

"William, " said his wife, "do you place a low desire for money beforeyour own sister-in-law's spiritual happiness?"

"No, darling, of course not. "

"Then you and I had better pray for the immediate bankruptcy of the GreenMouse. "

Her husband said, "By all means, " without enthusiasm, and looked out ofthe window. "Still, " he added, "I made a happy marriage. I'm for weddingbells every time. Sacharissa will like it, too. I don't know why you andI shouldn't be enthusiastic optimists concerning wedded life; I can't seewhy we shouldn't pray for Sacharissa's early marriage. "

"William!"

"Yes, darling. "

"You _are_ considering money before my sister's happiness!"

"But in her case I don't see why we can't conscientiously consider both. "

Linda cast one tragic glance at her material husband, pushed her sisteraside, arose and fled. After her sped the contrite Destyn; a distant doorshut noisily; all the elements had gathered for the happy, first quarrelof the newly wedded. 

"Fudge, " said Sacharissa, walking to the window, slim hands claspedloosely behind her back. 

VI

IN WRONG

_Wherein Sacharissa Remains In and a Young Man Can't Get Out_

The snowstorm had ceased; across Fifth Avenue the Park resembled themica-incrusted view on an expensive Christmas card. Every limb, branch, and twig was outlined in clinging snow; crystals of it glittered underthe morning sun; brilliantly dressed children, with sleds, romped andplayed over the dazzling expanse. Overhead the characteristic deep bluearch of a New York sky spread untroubled by a cloud. Her family--that is, her father, brother-in-law, married sister, three unmarried sisters andherself--were expecting to leave for Tuxedo about noon. Why? Nobody knowswhy the wealthy are always going somewhere. However, they do, fortunatelyfor story writers. 

"It's quite as beautiful here, " thought Sacharissa to herself, "as it isin the country. I'm sorry I'm going. "

Idling there by the sunny window and gazing out into the white expanse, she had already dismissed all uneasiness in her mind concerning thepsychical experiment upon herself. That is to say, she had not exactlydismissed it, she used no conscious effort, it had gone of itself--or, rather, it had been crowded out, dominated by a sudden and strongdisinclination to go to Tuxedo. 

As she stood there the feeling grew and persisted, and, presently, shefound herself repeating aloud: "I don't want to go, I _don't_ want to go. It's stupid to go. Why should I go when it's stupid to go and I'd ratherstay here?"

Meanwhile, Ethelinda and Destyn were having a classical reconciliation ina distant section of the house, and the young wife had got as far as:

"Darling, I am _so_ worried about Rissa. I _do_ wish she were not goingto Tuxedo. There are so many attractive men expected at the Courlands'. "

"She can't escape men anywhere, can she?"

"N-no; but there will be a concentration of particularly good-looking andundesirable ones at Tuxedo this week. That idle, horrid, cynical crowd iscoming from Long Island, and I _don't_ want her to marry any of them. "

"Well, then, make her stay at home. "

"She wants to go. "

"What's the good of an older sister if you can't make her mind you?" heasked. 

"She won't. She's set her heart on going. All those boisterous wintersports appeal to her. Besides, how can one member of the family be absenton New Year's Day?"

Arm in arm they strolled out into the great living room, where a large, pompous, vividly colored gentleman was laying down the law to thetriplets--three very attractive young girls, dressed precisely alike, whosaid, "Yes, pa-_pah!_" and "No pa-_pah!_" in a grave and silvery-voicedchorus whenever filial obligation required it. 

"And another thing, " continued the pudgy and vivid old gentleman, whosevoice usually ended in a softly mellifluous shout when speakingemphatically: "that worthless Westbury--Cedarhurst--Jericho--Meadowbrook set are going to be in evidence at this housewarming, and Icaution you now against paying anything but the slightest, mostsuperficial and most frivolous attention to anything that any of thoseyoung whip-snapping, fox-hunting cubs may say to you. Do you hear?" witha mellow shout like a French horn on a touring car. 

"Yes, pa-_pah!_"

The old gentleman waved his single eyeglass in token of dismissal, andlooked at his watch. 

"The bus is here, " he said fussily. "Come on, Will; come, Linda, and you, Flavilla, Drusilla, and Sybilla, get your furs on. Don't take theelevator. Go down by the stairs, and hurry! If there's one thing in thisworld I won't do it is to wait for anybody on earth!"

Flunkies and maids flew distractedly about with fur coats, muffs, andstoles. In solemn assemblage the family expedition filed past theelevator, descended the stairs to the lower hall, and there drew up forfinal inspection. 

A mink-infested footman waited outside; valets, butlers, second-men andmaids came to attention. 

"Where's Sacharissa?" demanded Mr. Carr, sonorously. 

"Here, dad, " said his oldest daughter, strolling calmly into the hall, hands still linked loosely behind her. 

"Why haven't you got your hat and furs on?" demanded her father. 

"Because I'm not going, dad, " she said sweetly. 

The family eyed her in amazement. 

"Not going?" shouted her father, in a mellow bellow. "Yes, you are! Not_going!_ And why the dickens not?"

"I really don't know, dad, " she said listlessly. "I don't want to go. "

Her father waved both pudgy arms furiously. "Don't you feel well? Youlook well. You _are_ well. Don't you _feel_ well?"

"Perfectly. "

"No, you don't! You're pale! You're pallid! You're peaked! Take a tonicand lie down. Send your maid for some doctors--all kinds of doctors--andhave them fix you up. Then come to Tuxedo with your maid to-morrowmorning. Do you hear?"

"Very well, dad. "

"And keep out of that elevator until it's fixed. It's likely to doanything. Ferdinand, " to the man at the door, "have it fixed at once. Sacharissa, send that maid of yours for a doctor!"

"Very well, dad!"

She presented her cheek to her emphatic parent; he saluted itexplosively, wheeled, marshaled the family at a glance, started themforward, and closed the rear with his own impressive person. The irongates clanged, the door of the opera bus snapped, and Sacharissa strolledback into the rococo reception room not quite certain why she had notgone, not quite convinced that she was feeling perfectly well. 

For the first few minutes her face had been going hot and cold, alternately flushed and pallid. Her heart, too, was acting in an unusualmanner--making sufficient stir for her to become uneasily aware of it. 

"Probably, " she thought to herself, "I've eaten too many chocolates. " Shelooked into the large gilded box, took another and ate it reflectively. 

A curious languor possessed her. To combat it she rang for her maid, intending to go for a brisk walk, but the weight of the furs seemed todistress her. It was absurd. She threw them off and sat down in thelibrary. 

A little while later her maid found her lying there, feet crossed, armsstretched backward to form a cradle for her head. 

"Are you ill, Miss Carr?"

"No, " said Sacharissa. 

The maid cast an alarmed glance at her mistress' pallid face. 

"Would you see Dr. Blimmer, miss?"

"No. "

The maid hesitated:

"Beg pardon, but Mr. Carr said you was to see some doctors. "

"Very well, " she said indifferently. "And please hand me thosechocolates. I don't care for any luncheon. "

"No luncheon, miss?" in consternation. 

Sacharissa had never been known to shun sustenance. 

The symptom thoroughly frightened her maid, and in a few minutes she hadDr. Blimmer's office on the telephone; but that eminent practitioner wasout. Then she found in succession the offices of Doctors White, Black, and Gray. Two had gone away over New Year's, the other was out. 

The maid, who was clever and resourceful, went out to hunt up a doctor. There are, in the cross streets, plenty of doctors between the Seventiesand Eighties. She found one without difficulty--that is, she found thesign in the window, but the doctor was out on his visits. 

She made two more attempts with similar results, then, discovering adoctor's sign in a window across the street, started for it regardless ofsnowdrifts, and at the same moment the doctor's front door opened and ayoung man, with a black leather case in his hand, hastily descended theicy steps and hurried away up the street. 

The maid ran after him and arrived at his side breathless, excited:

"Oh, _could_ you come--just for a moment, if you please, sir! Miss Carrwon't eat her luncheon!"

"What!" said the young man, surprised. 

"Miss Carr wishes to see you--just for a----"

"Miss Carr?"

"Miss Sacharissa!"

"Sacharissa?"

"Y-yes, sir--she----"

"But I don't know any Miss Sacharissa!"

"I understand that, sir. "

"Look here, young woman, do you know my name?"

"No, sir, but that doesn't make any difference to Miss Carr. "

"She wishes to see _me!_"

"Oh, yes, sir. "

"I--I'm in a hurry to catch a train. " He looked hard at the maid, at hiswatch, at the maid again. 

"Are you perfectly sure you're not mistaken?" he demanded. 

"No, sir, I----"

"A certain Miss Sacharissa Carr desires to see _me?_ Are you certain ofthat?"

"Oh, yes, sir--she----"

"Where does she live?"

"One thousand eight and a half Fifth Avenue, sir. "

"I've got just three minutes. Can you run?"

"I--yes!"

"Come on, then!"

And away they galloped, his overcoat streaming out behind, the maid'sskirts flapping and her narrow apron flickering in the wind. Wayfarersstopped to watch their pace--a pace which brought them to the house insomething under a minute. Ferdinand, the second man, let them in. 

"Now, then, " panted the young man, "which way? I'm in a hurry, remember!"And he started on a run for the stairs. 

"Please follow me, sir; the elevator is quicker!" gasped the maid, opening the barred doors. 

The young man sprang into the lighted car, the maid turned to fling offhat and jacket before entering; something went fizz-bang! snap! clink!and the lights in the car were extinguished. 

"Oh!" shrieked the maid, "it's running away again! Jump, sir!"

The ornate, rococo elevator, as a matter of fact, was running away, upward, slowly at first. Its astonished occupant turned to jump out--toolate. 

"P-push the third button, sir! Quick!" cried the maid, wringing herhands. 

"W-where is it!" stammered the young man, groping nervously in the darkcar. "I can't see any. "

"Cr-rack!" went something. 

"It's stopped! It's going to fall!" screamed the maid. "Run, Ferdinand!"

The man at the door ran upstairs for a few steps, then distractedly slidto the bottom, shouting:

"Are you hurt, sir?"

"No, " came a disgusted voice from somewhere up the shaft. 

Every landing was now noisy with servants, maids sped upstairs, flunkeyssped down, a butler waddled in a circle. 

"Is anybody going to get me out of this?" demanded the voice in theshaft. "I've a train to catch. "

The perspiring butler poked his head into the shaft from below:

"'Ow far hup, sir, might you be?"

"How the devil do I know?"

"Can't you see nothink, sir?"

"Yes, I can see a landing and a red room. "

"'E's stuck hunder the library!" exclaimed the butler, and there was arush for the upper floors. 

The rush was met and checked by a tall, young girl who came leisurelyalong the landing, nibbling a chocolate. 

"What is all this noise about?" she asked. "Has the elevator gone wrongagain?"

Glancing across the landing at the grille which screened the shaft shesaw the gilded car--part of it--and half of a perfectly strange young manlooking earnestly out. 

"It's the doctor!" wailed her maid. 

"That isn't Dr. Blimmer!" said her mistress. 

"No, miss, it's a perfectly strange doctor. "

"I am _not_ a doctor, " observed the young man, coldly. 

Sacharissa drew nearer. 

"If that maid of yours had asked me, " he went on, "I'd have told her. Shesaw me coming down the steps of a physician's house--I suppose shemistook my camera case for a case of medicines. "

"I did--oh, I did!" moaned the maid, and covered her head with her apron. 

"The thing to do, " said Sacharissa, calmly, "is to send for the nearestplumber. Ferdinand, go immediately!"

"Meanwhile, " said the imprisoned young man, "I shall miss my train. Can'tsomebody break that grille? I could climb out that way. "

"Sparks, " said Miss Carr, "can you break that grille?"

Sparks tried. A kitchen maid brought a small tackhammer--the only "'ammerin the 'ouse, " according to Sparks, who pounded at the foliated steelgrille and broke the hammer off short. 

"Did it 'it you in the 'ead, sir?" he asked, panting. 

"Exactly, " replied the young man, grinding his teeth. 

Sparks 'oped as 'ow it didn't 'urt the gentleman. The gentleman stanchedhis wound in terrible silence. 

Presently Ferdinand came back to report upon the availability of thefamily plumber. It appeared that all plumbers, locksmiths, and similarindispensable and free-born artisans had closed shop at noon and wouldnot reopen until after New Year's, subject to the Constitution of theUnited States. 

"But this gentleman cannot remain here until after New Year's, " saidSacharissa. "He says he is in a hurry. Do you hear, Sparks?"

The servants stood in a helpless row. 

"Ferdinand, " she said, "Mr. Carr told you to have that elevator fixedbefore it was used again!"

Ferdinand stared wildly at the grille and ran his thumb over the bars. 

"And Clark"--to her maid--"I am astonished that you permitted thisgentleman to risk the elevator. "

"He was in a hurry--I thought he was a doctor. " The maid dissolved intotears. 

"It is now, " broke in the voice from the shaft, "an utter impossibilityfor me to catch any train in the United States. "

"I am dreadfully sorry, " said Sacharissa. 

"Isn't there an ax in the house?"

The butler mournfully denied it. 

"Then get the furnace bar. "

It was fetched; nerve-racking blows rained on the grille; puffingservants applied it as a lever, as a battering-ram, as a club. The houserang like a boiler factory. 

"I can't stand any more of that!" shouted the young man. "Stop it!"

Sacharissa looked about her, hands closing both ears. 

"Send them away, " said the young man, wearily. "If I've got to stay hereI want a chance to think. "

After she had dismissed the servants Sacharissa drew up a chair andseated herself a few feet from the grille. She could see half the car andhalf the man--plainer, now that she had come nearer. 

He was a young and rather attractive looking fellow, cheek tied up in hishandkerchief, where the head of the hammer had knocked off the skin. 

"Let me get some witch-hazel, " said Sacharissa, rising. 

"I want to write a telegram first, " he said. 

So she brought some blanks, passed them and a pencil down to him throughthe grille, and reseated herself. 

VII

THE INVISIBLE WIRE

_In Which the Telephone Continues Ringing_

When he had finished writing he sorted out some silver, and handed it andthe yellow paper to Sacharissa. 

"It's dark in here. Would you mind reading it aloud to me to see if I'vemade it plain?" he asked. 

"Certainly, " said Sacharissa; and she read:

MRS. DELANCY COURLAND, Tuxedo. 

I'm stuck in an idiotic elevator at 1008-1/2 Fifth Avenue. If I don'tappear by New Year's you'll know why. Be careful that no reporters gethold of this. 

KILLIAN VAN K. VANDERDYNK. 

Sacharissa flushed deeply. "I can't send this, " she said. 

"Why not?" demanded the young man, irritably. 

"Because, Mr. Vanderdynk, my father, brother-in-law, married sister, andthree younger sisters are expected at the Courlands'. Imagine what effectsuch a telegram would have on them!"

"Then cross out the street and number, " he said; "just say I'm stuck in astrange elevator. "

She did so, rang, and a servant took away the telegram. 

"Now, " said the heir apparent to the Prince Regency of Manhattan, "thereare two things still" possible. First, you might ring up policeheadquarters and ask for aid; next, request assistance from fireheadquarters. "

"If I do, " she said, "wouldn't the newspapers get hold of it?"

"You are perfectly right, " he said. 

She had now drawn her chair so close to the gilded grille that, handsresting upon it, she could look down into the car where sat the scion ofthe Vanderdynks on a flimsy Louis XV chair. 

"I can't express to you how sorry I am, " she said. "Is there anything Ican do to--to ameliorate your imprisonment?"

He looked at her in a bewildered way. 

"You don't expect me to remain here until after New Year's, do you?" heinquired. 

"I don't see how you can avoid it. Nobody seems to want to work untilafter New Year's. "

"Stay in a cage--two days and a night!"

"Perhaps I had better call up the police. "

"No, no! Wait. I'll tell you what to do. Start that man, Ferdinand, on atour of the city. If he hunts hard enough and long enough he'll find someplumber or locksmith or somebody who'll come. "

She rang for Ferdinand; together they instructed him, and he went away, promising to bring salvation in some shape. 

Which promise made the young man more cheerful and smoothed out theworried pucker between Sacharissa's straight brows. 

"I suppose, " she said, "that you will never forgive my maid for this--orme either. "

He laughed. "After all, " he admitted, "it's rather funny. "

"I don't believe you think it's funny. "

"Yes, I do. "

"Didn't you want to go to Tuxedo?"

"I!" He looked up at the pretty countenance of Sacharissa. "I _did_ wantto--a few minutes ago. "

"And now that you can't your philosophy teaches you that you _don't_ wantto?"

They laughed at each other in friendly fashion. 

"Perhaps it's my philosophy, " he said, "but" I really don't care verymuch. .. . I'm not sure that I care at all. .. . In fact, now that I think ofit, why should I have wished to go to Tuxedo? It's stupid to want to goto Tuxedo when New York is so attractive. "

"Do you know, " she said reflectively, "that I came to the sameconclusion?"

"When?"

"This morning. "

"Be-before you--I----"

"Oh, yes, " she said rather hastily, "before you came----"

She broke off, pink with consternation. What a ridiculous thing to say!What on earth was twisting her tongue to hint at such an absurdity?

She said, gravely, with heightened color: "I was standing by the windowthis morning, thinking, and it occurred to me that I didn't care to go toTuxedo. .. . When did you change _your_ mind?"

"A few minutes a--that is--well, I never _really_ wanted to go. It'sjollier in town. Don't you think so? Blue sky, snow--er--and all that?"

"Yes, " she said, "it is perfectly delightful in town to-day. "

He assented, then looked discouraged. 

"Perhaps you would like to go out?" he said. 

"I? Oh, no. .. . The sun on the snow is bad for one's eyes; don't you thinkso?"

"Very. .. . I'm terribly sorry that I'm giving you so much trouble. "

"I don't mind--really. If only I could do something for you. "

"You are. "

"I?"

"Yes; you are being exceedingly nice to me. I am afraid you feel underobligations to remain indoors and----"

"Truly, I don't. I was not going out. "

She leaned nearer and looked through the bars: "Are you quite sure youfeel comfortable?"

"I feel like something in a zoo!"

She laughed. "That reminds me, " she said, "have you had any luncheon?"

He had not, it appeared, after a little polite protestation, so she rangfor Sparks. 

Her own appetite, too, had returned when the tray was brought; napkin andplate were passed through the grille to him, and, as they lunched, he inhis cage, she close to the bars, they fell into conversation, exchanginginformation concerning mutual acquaintances whom they had expected tomeet at the Delancy Courlands'. 

"So you see, " she said, "that if I had not changed my mind about going toTuxedo this morning you would not be here now. Nor I. .. . And we wouldnever have--lunched together. "

"That didn't alter things, " he said, smiling. "If you hadn't been ill youwould have gone to Tuxedo, and I should have seen you there. "

"Then, whatever I did made no difference, " she assented, thoughtfully, "for we were bound to meet, anyway. "

He remained standing close to the grille, which, as she was seated, brought his head on a level with hers. 

"It would seem, " he said laughingly, "as though we were doomed to meeteach other, anyway. It looks like a case of Destiny to me. "

She started slightly: "What did you say?"

"I said that it looks as though Fate intended us to meet, anyhow. Don'tyou think so?"

She remained silent. 

He added cheerfully: "I never was afraid of Fate. "

"Would you care for a--a book--or anything?" she asked, aware of a newconstraint in her voice. 

"I don't believe I could see to read in here. .. . Are you--going?"

"I--ought to. " Vexed at the feeble senselessness of her reply she foundherself walking down the landing, toward nowhere in particular. Sheturned abruptly and came back. 

"Do you want a book?" she repeated. 

"Oh, I forgot that you can't see to read. But perhaps you might care tosmoke. "

"Are you going away?"

"I--don't mind your smoking. "

He lighted a cigarette; she looked at him irresolutely. 

"You mustn't think of remaining, " he said. Whereupon she seated herself. 

"I suppose I ought to try to amuse you--till Ferdinand returns with aplumber, " she said. 

He protested: "I couldn't think of asking so much from you. "

"Anyway, it's my duty, " she insisted. "I ought. "

"Why?"

"Because you are under my roof--a guest. "

"Please don't think----"

"But I really don't mind! If there is anything I can do to make yourimprisonment easier----"

"It is easy. I rather like being here. "

"It is very amiable of you to say so. "

"I really mean it. "

"How can you _really_ mean it?"

"I don't know, but I do. " In their earnestness they had come close to thebars; she stood with both hands resting on the grille, looking in; he ina similar position, looking out. 

He said: "I feel like an occupant of the Bronx, and it rather astonishesme that you haven't thrown me in a few peanuts. "

She laughed, fetched her box of chocolates, then began seriously: "IfFerdinand doesn't find anybody I'm afraid you might be obliged to remainto dinner. "

"That prospect, " he said, "is not unpleasant. You know when one becomesaccustomed to one's cage it's rather a bore to be let out. "

They sampled the chocolates, she sitting close to the cage, and as thebox would not go through the bars she was obliged to hand them to him, one by one. 

"I wonder, " she mused, "how soon Ferdinand will find a plumber?"

He shrugged his shoulders. 

She bent her adorable head, chose a chocolate and offered it to him. 

[Illustration: "Are you not terribly impatient?" she inquired]

"Are you not terribly impatient?" she inquired. 

"Not--terribly. "

Their glances encountered and she said hurriedly:

"I am sure you must be perfectly furious with everybody in this house. I--I think it is most amiable of you to behave so cheerfully about it. "

"As a matter of fact, " he said, "I'm feeling about as cheerful as I everfelt in my life. "

"Cooped up in a cage?"

"Exactly. "

"Which may fall at any--" The idea was a new one to them both. She leanedforward in sudden consternation. "I never thought of that!" sheexclaimed. "You don't think there's any chance of its falling, do you?"

He looked at the startled, gray eyes so earnestly fixed on his. The sweetmouth quivered a little--just a little--or he thought it did. 

"No, " he replied, with a slight catch in his voice, "I don't believe it'sgoing to fall. "

"Perhaps you had better not move around very much in it. Be careful, Ibeg of you. You will, won't you, Mr. Vanderdynk?"

"Please don't let it bother you, " he said, stepping toward herimpulsively. 

"Oh, don't, don't move!" she exclaimed. "You really must keep perfectlystill. Won't you promise me you will keep perfectly still?"

"I'll promise you anything, " he said a little wildly. 

Neither seemed to notice that he had overdone it. 

She drew her chair as close as it would go to the grille and leanedagainst it. 

"You _will_ keep up your courage, won't you?" she asked anxiously. 

"Certainly. By the way, how far is it to the b-basement?"

She turned quite white for an instant, then:

"I think I'd better go and ring up the police. "

"No! A thousand times no! I couldn't stand that. "

"But the car might--drop before----"

"Better decently dead than publicly paragraphed. .. . I haven't the leastidea that this thing is going to drop. .. . Anyway, it's worth it, " headded, rather vaguely. 

"Worth--what?" she asked, looking into his rather winning, brown eyes. 

"Being here, " he said, looking into her engaging gray ones. 

After a startling silence she said calmly: "Will you promise me not tomove or shake the car till I return?"

"You won't be very long, will you?"

"Not--very, " she replied faintly. 

She walked into the library, halted in the center of the room, handsclasped behind her. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer. 

"I might as well face it, " she said to herself; "he is--by far--the mostthoroughly attractive man I have ever seen. .. . I--I _don't_ know what'sthe matter, " she added piteously. .. . "if it's that machine William made Ican't help it; I don't care any longer; I wish----"

A sharp crack from the landing sent her out there in a hurry, pale andfrightened. 

"Something snapped somewhere, " explained the young man with forcedcarelessness, "some unimportant splinter gave way and the thing slid downan inch or two. "

"D-do you think----"

"No, I don't. But it's perfectly fine of you to care. "

"C-care? I'm a little frightened, of course. .. . Anybody would be. .. . Oh, I wish you were out and p-perfectly safe. " "If I thought you could everreally care what became of a man like me----"

Killian Van K. Vanderdynk's aristocratic senses began gyrating; hegrasped the bars, the back of his hand brushed against hers, and themomentary contact sent a shock straight through the scion of thatcelebrated race. 

She seated herself abruptly; a delicate color grew, staining her face. 

Neither spoke. A long, luminous sunbeam fell across the landing, touchingthe edge of her hair till it glimmered like bronze afire. The sensitivemouth was quiet, the eyes, very serious, were lifted from time to time, then lowered, thoughtfully, to the clasped fingers on her knee. 

Could it be possible? How could it be possible?--with a man she had neverbefore chanced to meet--with a man she had seen for the first time in herlife only an hour or so ago! Such things didn't happen outside of shortstories. There was neither logic nor common decency in it. Had she or hadshe not any ordinary sense remaining?

She raised her eyes and looked at the heir of the Vanderdynks. 

Of course anybody could see he was unusually attractive--that he had thatindefinable something about him which is seldom, if ever, seen outside offiction or of Mr. Gibson's drawings--perhaps it is entirely confined tothem--except in this one very rare case. 

Sacharissa's eyes fell. 

Another unusual circumstance was engaging her attention, namely, that hisrather remarkable physical perfection appeared to be matched by abreeding quite as faultless, and a sublimity of courage in the face ofdestruction itself, which----

Sacharissa lifted her gray eyes. 

There he stood, suspended over an abyss, smoking a cigarette, bravelyforcing himself to an attitude of serene insouciance, while the basementyawned for him! Machine or no machine, how could any girl look upon suchmiraculous self-control unmoved? _She_ could not. It was natural that awoman should be deeply thrilled by such a spectacle--and William Destyn'smachine had nothing to do with it--not a thing! Neither had psychology, nor demonology, nor anything, with wires or wireless. She liked him, frankly. Who wouldn't? She feared for him, desperately. Who wouldn't?She----

"C-r-rack!"

"Oh--_what_ is it!" she cried, springing to the grille. 

"I don't know, " he said, somewhat pale. "The old thing seems--to besliding. "

"Giving way!"

"A--little--I think----"

"Mr. Vanderdynk! I _must_ call the police----"

"Cr-rackle--crack-k-k!" went the car, dropping an inch or two. 

With a stifled cry she caught his hands through the bars, as though tohold him by main strength. 

"Are you crazy?" he said fiercely, thrusting them away. "Be careful! Ifthe thing drops you'll break your arms!"

"I--I don't care!" she said breathlessly. "I can't let----"

"Crack!" But the car stuck again. 

"I _will_ call the police!" she cried. 

"The papers may make fun of _you_. "

"Was it for _me_ you were afraid? Oh, Mr. Vanderdynk! What do I care forridicule compared to--to----"

The car had sunk so far in the shaft now that she had to kneel and puther head close to the floor to see him. 

"I will only be a minute at the telephone, " she said. "Keep up courage; Iam thinking of you every moment. "

"W-will you let me say one word?" he stammered. 

"Oh, what? Be quick, I beg you. "

"It's only goodbye--in case the thing drops. May I say it?"

"Y-yes--yes! But say it quickly. "

"And if it doesn't drop after all, you won't be angry at what I'm goingto say?"

"N-no. Oh, for Heaven's sake, hurry!"

"Then--you are the sweetest woman in the world!. .. Goodbye--Sacharissa--dear. "

She sprang up, dazed, and at the same moment a terrific crackling andsplintering resounded from the shaft, and the car sank out of sight. 

Faint, she swayed for a second against the balustrade, then turned andran downstairs, ears strained for the sickening crash from below. 

There was no crash, no thud. As she reached the drawing-room landing, toher amazement a normally-lighted elevator slid slowly down, came to astop, and the automatic grilles opened quietly. 

As Killian Van K. Vanderdynk crept forth from the elevator, Sacharissa'snerves gave way; his, also, seemed to disintegrate; and they stood forsome moments mutually supporting each other, during which intervalunaccustomed tears fell from the gray eyes, and unaccustomed words, breathed brokenly, reassured her; and, altogether unaccustomed to suchthings, they presently found themselves seated in a distant corner of thedrawing-room, still endeavoring to reassure each other with interclaspedhands. 

They said nothing so persistently that the wordless minutes throbbed intohours; through the windows the red west sent a glowing tentacle into theroom, searching the gloom for them. 

It fell, warm, across her upturned throat, in the half light. 

For her head lay back on his shoulder; his head was bent down, lipspressed to the white hands crushed fragrantly between his own. 

A star came out and looked at them with astonishment; in a little whilethe sky was thronged with little stars, all looking through the window atthem. 

Her maid knocked, backed out hastily and fled, distracted. Then Ferdinandarrived with a plumber. 

Later the butler came. They did not notice him until he ventured to coughand announce dinner. 

The interruptions were very annoying, particularly when she was summonedto the telephone to speak to her father. 

"What is it, dad?" she asked impatiently. 

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, " she answered, carelessly; "we are all right, dad. Goodbye. "

"We? Who the devil is 'We'?"

"Mr. Vanderdynk and I. We're taking my maid and coming down to Tuxedothis evening together. I'm in a hurry now. "

"What!!!"

"Oh, it's all right, dad. Here, Killian, please explain things to myfather. "

Vanderdynk released her hand and picked up the receiver as though it hadbeen a live wire. 

"Is that you, Mr. Carr?" he began--stopped short, and stood listening, rigid, bewildered, turning redder and redder as her father's fluencyincreased. Then, without a word, he hooked up the receiver. 

"Is it all right?" she asked calmly. "Was dad--vivacious?"

The young man said: "I'd rather go back into that elevator than go toTuxedo. .. . But--I'm going. "

"So am I, " said Bushwyck Carr's daughter, dropping both hands on herlover's shoulders. .. . "Was he really very--vivid?"

"Very. "

The telephone again rang furiously. 

He bent his head; she lifted her face and he kissed her. 

After a while the racket of the telephone annoyed them, and they slowlymoved away out of hearing. 

VIII

"IN HEAVEN AND EARTH"

_The Green Mouse Stirs_

"I've been waiting half an hour for you, " observed Smith, dryly, asBeekman Brown appeared at the subway station, suitcase in hand. 

"It was a most extraordinary thing that detained me, " said Brown, laughing, and edging his way into the ticket line behind his friend wherehe could talk to him across his shoulder; "I was just leaving the office, Smithy, when Snuyder came in with a card. "

"Oh, all right--of course, if----"

"No, it was not a client; I must be honest with you. "

"Then you had a terrible cheek to keep me here waiting. "

"It was a girl, " said Beekman Brown. 

Smith cast a cold glance back at him over his left shoulder. 

"What kind of a girl?"

"A most extraordinary girl. She came on--on a matter----"

"Was it business or a touch?"

"Not exactly business. "

"Ornamental girl?" demanded Smith. 

"Yes--exceedingly; but it wasn't that----

"Oh, it was not that which kept you talking to her half an hour whileI've sat suffocating in this accursed subway!"

"No, Smith; her undeniably attractive features and her--ah--winningpersonality had nothing whatever to do with it. Buy the tickets and I'lltell you all about it. "

Smith bought two tickets. A north bound train roared into the station. The young men stepped aboard, seated themselves, depositing theirsuitcases at their feet. 

"Now what about that winning-looker who really didn't interest you?"suggested Smith in tones made slightly acid by memory of his half hourwaiting. 

"Smith, it was a most unusual episode. I was just leaving the office tokeep my appointment with you when Snuyder came in with a card----"

"You've said that already. "

"But I didn't tell you what was on that card, did I?"

"I can guess. "

"No, you can't. Her name was not on the card. She was not an agent; shehad nothing to sell; she didn't want a position; she didn't ask for asubscription to anything. And what do you suppose was on that card?"

"Well, what was on the card, for the love of Mike?" snapped Smith. "I'lltell you. The card seemed to be an ordinary visiting card; but down inone corner was a tiny and beautifully drawn picture of a green mouse. "

"A--what?"

"A mouse. "

"G-green?"

"Pea green. .. . Come, now, Smith, if you were just leaving your office andyour clerk should come in, looking rather puzzled and silly, and shouldhand you a card with nothing on it but a little green mouse, wouldn't itgive you pause?"

"I suppose so. "

Brown removed his straw hat, touched his handsome head with hishandkerchief, and continued:

"I said to Snuyder: 'What the mischief is this?' He said: 'It's for you. And there's an exceedingly pretty girl outside who expects you to receiveher for a few moments. ' I said: 'But what has this card with a greenmouse on it got to do with that girl or with me?' Snuyder said he didn'tknow and that I'd better ask her. So I looked at my watch and I thoughtof you----"

"Yes, you did. "

"I tell you I did. Then I looked at the card with the green mouse onit. .. . And I want to ask you frankly, Smith, what would _you_ have done?"

"Oh, what you did, I suppose, " replied Smith, wearily. "Go on. "

"I'm going. She entered----"

"She was tall and squeenly; you probably forgot that, " observed Smith inhis most objectionable manner. 

"Probably not; she was of medium height, as a detail of externalinterest. But, although rather unusually attractive in a merelysuperficial and physical sense, it was instantly evident from her speechand bearing, that, in her, intellect dominated; her mind, Smithy, reignedserene, unsullied, triumphant over matter. "

Smith looked up in amazement, but Brown, a reminiscent smile lighting hisface, went on:

"She had a very winsome manner--a way of speaking--so prettily inearnest, so grave. And she looked squarely at me all the time----"

"So you contributed to the Home for Unemployed Patagonians. "

"Would you mind shutting up?" asked Brown. 

"No. "

"Then try to listen respectfully. She began by explaining thesignificance of that pea-green mouse on the card. It seems, Smith, thatthere is a scientific society called The Green Mouse, composed of a fewpeople who have determined to apply, practically, certain theories whichthey believe have commercial value. "

"Was she, " inquired Smith with misleading politeness, "what is known asan 'astrologist'?"

"She was not. She is the president, I believe, of The Green MouseSociety. She explained to me that it has been indisputably proven thatthe earth is not only enveloped by those invisible electric currentswhich are now used instead of wires to carry telegraphic messages, butthat this world of ours is also belted by countless psychic currentswhich go whirling round the earth----"

"_What_ kind of currents?"

"Psychic. "

"Which circle the earth?"

"Exactly. If you want to send a wireless message you hitch on to acurrent, don't you?--or you tap it--or something. Now, they havediscovered that each one of these numberless millions of psychic currentspasses through two, living, human entities of opposite sex; that, forexample, all you have got to do to communicate with the person who is onthe same psychical current that you are, is to attune your subconsciousself to a given intensity and pitch, and it will be like communication bytelephone, no matter how far apart you are. "

"Brown!"

"What?"

"Did she go to your office to tell you that sort of--of--information?"

"Partly. She was perfectly charming about it. She explained to me thatall nature is divided into predestined pairs, and that somewhere, at sometime, either here on earth or in some of the various future existences, this predestined pair is certain to meet and complete the universalscheme as it has been planned. Do you understand, Smithy?"

Smith sat silent and reflective for a while, then:

"You say that her theory is that everybody owns one of those psychiccurrents?"

"Yes. "

"I am on a private psychic current whirling around this globe?"

"Sure. "

"And some--ah--young girl is at the other end?"

"Sure thing. "

"Then if I could only get hold of my end of the wire I could--ah--callher up?"

"I believe that's the idea. "

"And--she's for muh?"

"So they say. "

"Is--is there any way to get a look at her first?"

"You'd have to take her anyway, sometime. "

"But suppose I didn't like her?"

The two young men sat laughing for a few moments, then Brown went on:

"You see, Smith, my interview with her was such a curious episode thatabout all I did was to listen to what she was saying, so I don't know howdetails are worked out. She explained to me that The Green Mouse Societyhas just been formed, not only for the purpose of psychical research, butfor applying practically and using commercially the discovery of thepsychic currents. That's what The Green Mouse is trying to do: formitself into a company and issue stocks and bonds----"

"What?"

"Certainly. It sounds like a madman's dream at first, but when you cometo look into it--for instance, think of the millions of clients such acompany would have. As example, a young man, ready for marriage, goes toThe Green Mouse and pays a fee. The Green Mouse sorts out, identifies, and intercepts the young man's own particular current, hitches hissubconscious self to it, and zip!--he's at one end of an invisibletelephone and the only girl on earth is at the other. .. . What's thematter with their making a quick date for an introduction?"

Smith said slowly: "Do you mean to tell me that any sane person came toyou in your office with a proposition to take stock in such anenterprise?"

"She did not even suggest it. "

"What did she want, then?"

"She wanted, " said Brown, "a perfectly normal, unimaginative business manwho would volunteer to permit The Green Mouse Society to sort out hispsychic current, attach him to it, and see what would happen. "

"She wants to experiment on _you?_"

"So I understand. "

"And--you're not going to let her, are you?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's--it's idiotic!" said Smith, warmly. "I don't believe insuch things--you don't, either--nobody does--but, all the same, you can'tbe perfectly sure in these days what devilish sort of game you might beup against. "

Brown smiled. "I told her, very politely, that I found it quiteimpossible to believe in such things; and she was awfully nice about it, and said it didn't matter what I believed. It seems that my name waschosen by chance--they opened the Telephone Directory at random and she, blindfolded, made a pencil mark on the margin opposite one of the nameson the page. It happened to be my name. That's all. "

"Wouldn't let her do it!" said Smith, seriously. 

"Why not, as long as there's absolutely nothing in it? Besides, if itpleases her to have a try why shouldn't she? Besides, I haven't theslightest intention or desire to woo or wed anybody, and I'd like to seeanybody make me. "

"Do you mean to say that you told her to go ahead?"

"Certainly, " said Brown serenely. "And she thanked me very prettily. She's well bred--exceptionally. "

"Oh! Then what did you do?"

"We talked a little while. "

"About what?"

"Well, for instance, I mentioned that curiously-baffling sensation whichcomes over everybody at times--the sudden conviction that everything thatyou say and do has been said and done by you before--somewhere. Do youunderstand?"

"Oh, yes. "

"And she smiled and said that such sensations were merely echoes from theinvisible psychic wire, and that repetitions from some previousincarnation were not unusual, particularly when the other person throughwhom the psychic current passed, was near by. "

"You mean to say that when a fellow has that queer feeling that it hasall happened before, the--the predestined girl is somewhere in yourneighborhood?"

"That is what my pretty informant told me. "

"Who, " asked Smith, "is this pretty informant?"

"She asked permission to withhold her name. "

"Didn't she ask you to subscribe?"

"No; she merely asked for the use of my name as reference for futureclients if The Green Mouse Society was successful in my case. "

"What did you say?"

Brown laughed. "I said that if any individual or group of individualscould induce me, within a year, to fall in love with and pay court to anyliving specimen of human woman I'd cheerfully admit it from the house-tops and take pleasure in recommending The Green Mouse to everybody Iknew who yet remained unmarried. "

They both laughed. 

"What rot we've been talking, " observed Smith, rising and picking up hissuitcase. "Here's our station, and we'd better hustle or we'll lose theboat. I wouldn't miss that week-end party for the world!"

"Neither would I, " said Beekman Brown. 

IX

A CROSS-TOWN CAR

_Concerning the Sudden Madness of One Brown_

As the two young fellows, carrying their suitcases, emerged from thesubway at Times Square into the midsummer glare and racket of Broadwayand Forty-second Street, Brown suddenly halted, pressed his hand to hisforehead, gazed earnestly up at the sky as though trying to recollect howto fly, then abruptly gripped Smith's left arm just above the elbow andsqueezed it, causing the latter gentleman exquisite discomfort. 

"Here! Stop it!" protested Smith, wriggling with annoyance. 

Brown only gazed at him and then at the sky. 

"Stop it!" repeated Smith, astonished. "Why do you pinch me and then lookat the sky? Is--is a monoplane attempting to alight on me? _What_ is thematter with you, anyway?"

"That peculiar consciousness, " said Brown, dreamily, "is creeping overme. Don't move--don't speak--don't interrupt me, Smith. "

"Let go of me!" retorted Smith. 

"Hush! Wait! It's certainly creeping over me. "

"What's creeping over you?"

"You know what I mean. I am experiencing that strange feeling that all--er--all _this_--has happened before. "

"All what?--confound it!"

"All _this!_ My standing, on a hot summer day, in the infernal din ofsome great city; and--and I seem to recall it vividly--after a fashion--the blazing sun, the stifling odor of the pavements; I seem to rememberthat very hackman over there sponging the nose of his horse--even thatpushcart piled up with peaches! Smith! What is this maddeningly elusivememory that haunts me--haunts me with the peculiar idea that it has alloccurred before?. .. Do you know what I mean?"

"I've just admitted to you that everybody has that sort of fidgetoccasionally, and there's no reason to stand on your hindlegs about it. Come on or we'll miss our train. "

But Beekman Brown remained stock still, his youthful and attractivefeatures puckered in a futile effort to seize the evanescent memoriesthat came swarming--gnatlike memories that teased and distracted. 

"It's as if the entire circumstances were strangely familiar, " he said;"as though everything that you and I do and say had once before been doneand said by us under precisely similar conditions--somewhere--sometime. "

"We'll miss that boat at the foot of Forty-second Street, " cut in Smithimpatiently. "And if we miss the boat we lose our train. "

Brown gazed skyward. 

"I never felt this feeling so strongly in all my life, " he muttered;"it's--it's astonishing. Why, Smith, I _knew_ you were going to saythat. "

"Say what?" demanded Smith. 

"That we would miss the boat and the train. Isn't it funny?"

"Oh, very. I'll say it again sometime if it amuses you; but, meanwhile, as we're going to that week-end at the Carringtons we'd better get into ataxi and hustle for the foot of West Forty-second Street. Is thereanything very funny in that?"

"I knew _that_, too. I knew you'd say we must take a taxi!" insistedBrown, astonished at his own "clairvoyance. "

"Now, look here, " retorted Smith, thoroughly vexed; "up to five minutesago you were reasonable. What the devil's the matter with you, BeekmanBrown?"

"James Vanderdynk Smith, I don't know. Good Heavens! I knew you weregoing to say that to me, and that I was going to answer that way!"

"Are you coming or are you going to talk foolish on this broilingcurbstone the rest of the afternoon?" inquired Smith, fiercely. 

"Jim, I tell you that everything we've done and said in the last fiveminutes we have done and said before--somewhere--perhaps on some otherplanet; perhaps centuries ago when you and I were Romans and woretogas----"

"Confound it! What do I care, " shouted Smith, "whether we were Romans andwore togas? We are due this century at a house party on this planet. Theyexpect us on this train. Are you coming? If not--kindly relax thatcrablike clutch on my elbow before partial paralysis ensues. "

"Smith, wait! I tell you this is somehow becoming strangely portentous. I've got the funniest sensation that something is going to happen to me. "

"It will, " said Smith, dangerously, "if you don't let go my elbow. "

But Beekman Brown, a prey to increasing excitement, clung to his friend. 

"Wait just one moment, Jim; something remarkable is likely to occur! I--Inever before felt this way--so strongly--in all my life. Somethingextraordinary is certainly about to happen to me. "

"It has happened, " said his friend, coldly; "you've gone dippy. Also, we've lost that train. Do you understand?"

"I knew we would. Isn't that curious? I--I believe I can almost tell youwhat else is going to happen to us. "

"_I'll_ tell _you_, " hissed Smith; "it's an ambulance for yours and ding-dong to the funny-house! _What_ are you trying to do now?" With realmisgiving, for Brown, balanced on the edge of the gutter, began wavinghis arms in a birdlike way as though about to launch himself into aerialflight across Forty-second Street. 

"The car!" he exclaimed excitedly, "the cherry-colored cross-town car!Where is it? Do you see it anywhere, Smith?"

"What? What do you mean? There's no cross-town car in sight. Brown, don'tact like that! Don't be foolish! What on earth----"

"It's coming! There's a car coming!" cried Brown. 

"Do you think you're a racing runabout and I'm a curve?"

Brown waved him away impatiently. 

"I tell you that something most astonishing is going to occur--in acherry-colored tram car. .. . And somehow there'll be some reason for me toget into it. "

"Into what?"

"Into that cherry-colored car, because--because--there'll be a wickerbasket in it--somebody holding a wicker basket--and there'll be--there'llbe--a--a--white summer gown--and a big white hat----"

Smith stared at his friend in grief and amazement. Brown stood balancinghimself on the gutter's edge, pale, rapt, uttering incoherent prophecyconcerning the advent of a car not yet visible anywhere in the immediatemetropolitan vista. 

"Old man, " began Smith with emotion, "I think you had better come veryquietly somewhere with me. I--I want to show you something pretty andnice. "

"Hark!" exclaimed Brown. 

"Sure, I'll hark for you, " said Smith, soothingly, "or I'll bark for youif you like, or anything if you'll just come quietly. "

"The cherry-colored car!" cried Brown, laboring under tremendous emotion. "Look, Smithy! That is the car!"

"Sure, it is! I see it, old man. They run 'em every five minutes. Whatthe devil is there to astonish anybody about a cross-town cruiser with ared water line?"

"Look!" insisted Brown, now almost beside himself. "The wicker basket!The summer gown! Exactly as I foretold it! The big straw hat!--the--the_girl!_"

And shoving Smith violently away he galloped after the cherry-coloredcar, caught it, swung himself aboard, and sank triumphant and breathlessinto the transverse seat behind that occupied by a wicker basket, a filmysummer frock, a big, white straw hat, and--a girl--the most amazinglypretty girl he had ever laid eyes on. After him, headlong, like adistracted chicken, rushed Smith and alighted beside him, panting, menacing. 

"Wha'--dyeh--board--this--car--for!" he gasped, sliding fiercely upbeside Brown. "Get off or I'll drag you off!"

But Brown only shook his head with an infatuated smile. 

"Is it that girl?" said Smith, incensed. "Are you a--a Broadway Don Juan, or are you a respectable lawyer with a glimmering sense of common decencyand an intention to keep a social engagement at the Carringtons' to-day?"

And Smith drew out his timepiece and flourished it furiously underBrown's handsome and sun-tanned nose. 

But Brown only slid along the seat away from him, saying:

"Don't bother me, Jim; this is too momentous a crisis in my life to havea well-intentioned but intellectually dwarfed friend butting into me andrunning about under foot. "

"Intellectually d-d--do you mean _me?_" asked Smith, unable to believehis ears. "_Do_ you?"

"Yes, I do! Because a miracle suddenly happens to me on Forty-secondStreet, and you, with your mind of a stockbroker, unable to appreciateit, come clattering and clamoring after me about a house party--a common-place, every-day, social appointment, when I have a full-blown miracle onmy hands!"

"What miracle?" faltered Smith, stupefied. 

"What miracle? Haven't I been telling you that I've been having thatqueer sense that all this has happened before? Didn't I suddenly begin--as though compelled by some unseen power--to foretell things? Didn't Iprophesy the coming of this cross-town car? Didn't I even name its colorbefore it came into sight? Didn't I warn you that I'd probably get intoit? Didn't I reveal to you that a big straw hat and a pretty summergown----"

"Confound it!" almost shouted Smith, "There are about five thousandcherry-colored cross-town cars in this town. There are about five millionwhite hats and dresses in this borough. There are five billion girlswearing 'em----!" "Yes; but the _wicker basket_" breathed Brown. "How doyou account for _that?_. .. And, anyway, you annoy me, Smith. Why don'tyou get out of the car and go somewhere?"

"I want to know where you are going before I knock your head off. "

"I don't know, " replied Brown, serenely. 

"Are you actually attempting to follow that girl?" whispered Smith, horrified. 

"Yes. .. . It sounds low, doesn't it? But it really isn't. It is somethingI can't explain--you couldn't understand even if I tried to enlightenyou. The sentiment I harbor is too lofty for some to comprehend, toovague, too pure, too ethereal for----"

"I'm as lofty and ethereal as you are!" retorted Smith, hotly. "And Iknow a--an ethereal Lothario when I see him, too!"

"I'm not--though it looks like it--and I forgive you, Smithy, for losingyour temper and using such language. "

"Oh, you do?" said Smith, grinning with rage. 

"Yes, " nodded Brown, kindly. "I forgive you, but don't call me thatagain. You mean well, but I'm going to find out at last what all thismaddening, tantalizing, unexplained and mysterious feeling that it allhas occurred before really is. I'm going to trace it to its source; I'mgoing to compare notes with this highly intelligent girl. "

"You're going to _speak_ to her?"

"I am. I must. How else can I compare data. "

"I hope she'll call the police. If she doesn't _I_ will. "

"Don't worry. She's part of this strange situation. She'll comprehend assoon as I begin to explain. She is intelligent; you only have to look ather to understand that. "

Smith choking with impotent fury, nevertheless ventured a swift glance. Her undeniable beauty only exasperated him. "To think--to _think_, " heburst out, "that a modest, decent, law-loving business man like me shouldsuddenly awake to find his boyhood friend had turned into a godlessvotary of Venus!"

"I'm not a votary of Venus!" retorted Brown, turning pink. "I'll punchyou if you say it again. I'm as decent and respectable a business man asyou are! And my grammar is better. And, thank Heaven! I've intellectenough to recognize a miracle when it happens to me. .. . Do you think I amcapable of harboring any sentiments that might bring the blush ofcoquetry to the cheek of modesty? Do you?"

"Well--well, _I_ don't know what you're up to!" Smith raised his voice inbewilderment and despair. "I don't know what possesses you to act thisway. People don't experience miracles in New York cross-town cars. Thewildest stretch of imagination could only make a coincidence out of this. There are trillions of girls in cross-town cars dressed just like thisone. "

"But the basket!"

"Another coincidence. There are quadrillions of wicker baskets. "

"Not, " said Brown, "with the contents of this one. "

"Why not?"

Smith instinctively turned to look at the basket balanced daintily on thegirl's knees. 

He strove to penetrate its wicker exterior with concentrated gaze. Hecould see nothing but wicker. 

"Well, " he began angrily, "what _is_ in that basket? And how do _you_know it--you lunatic?"

"Will you believe me if I tell you?"

"If you can offer any corroborative evidence----"

"Well, then--there's a cat in that basket. "

"A--what?"

"A cat. "

"How do you know?"

"I don't know how I know, but there's a big, gray cat in that basket. "

"Why a _gray_ one?"

"I can't tell, but it _is_ gray, and it has six toes on every foot. "

Smith truly felt that he was now being trifled with. 

"Brown, " he said, trying to speak civilly, "if anybody in the fiveboroughs had come to me with affidavits and told me yesterday how youwere going to behave this morning----"

His voice, rising unconsciously as the realization of his outrageouswrongs dawned upon him, rang out above the rattle and grinding of thecar, and the girl turned abruptly and looked straight at him and then atBrown. 

The pure, fearless beauty of the gaze, the violet eyes widening a littlein surprise, silenced both young men. 

She inspected Brown for an instant, then turned serenely to her calmcontemplation of the crowded street once more. Yet her dainty, close-setears looked as though they were listening. 

The young men gazed at one another. 

"That girl is well bred, " said Smith in a low, agitated voice. "You--youwouldn't think of venturing to speak to her!"

"I'm obliged to, I tell you! This all happened before. I recognizeeverything as it occurs. .. . Even to your making a general nuisance ofyourself. "

Smith straightened up. 

"I'm going to push you forcibly from this car. Do you remember _that_incident?"

[Illustration: "The lid of the basket tilted a little. Then a plaintivevoice said 'Meow-w'. "]

"No, " said Brown with conviction, "that incident did not happen. You onlythreatened to do it. I remember now. "

In spite of himself Smith felt a slight chill creep up over his neck andinconvenience his spine. 

He said, deeply agitated: "What a terrible position for me to be in--witha friend suddenly gone mad in the streets of New York and running after abasket containing what he believes to be a cat. A _Cat!_ Good----"

Brown gripped his arm. "Watch it!" he breathed. 

The lid of the basket tilted a little, between lid and rim a soft, furry, six-toed gray paw was thrust out. Then a plaintive voice said, "Meow-w!"

[Illustration]

X

THE LID OFF

_An Alliance, Offensive, Defensive, and Back-Fensive_

Smith, petrified, looked blankly at the paw. 

For a while he remained stupidly incapable of speech or movement, then, as though arousing from a bad dream:

"What are you going to do, anyway?" he asked with an effort. "This car isbound to stop sometime, I suppose, and--and then what?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. Whatever I do will be the thing thatought to happen to me, to that cat and to that girl--that is the thingwhich is destined to happen. That's all I know about it. "

His friend passed an unsteady hand across his brow. 

"This whole proceeding is becoming a nightmare, " he said unsteadily. "AmI awake? Is this Forty-second Street? Hold up some fingers, Brown, andlet me guess how many you hold up, and if I guess wrong I'm home in bedasleep and the whole thing is off. "

Beekman Brown patted his friend on the shoulder. 

"You take a cab, Smithy, and go somewhere. And if I don't come go onalone to the Carringtons'. .. . You don't mind going on and fixing thingsup with the Carringtons, do you?"

"Brown, _do_ you believe that The Green Mouse Society has got hold ofyou? _Do_ you?"

"I don't know and don't care. .. . Smith, I ask you plainly, did you everbefore see such a perfectly beautiful girl as that one is?"

"Beekman, do you believe anything queer is going to result? You don'tsuppose _she_ has anything to do with this extraordinary freak of yours?"

"Anything to do with it? How?"

"I mean, " he sank his voice to hoarser depths, "how do you know but thatthis girl, who pretends to pay no attention to us, _might_ be a--a--oneof those clever, professional mesmerists who force you to follow 'em, andget you into their power, and exhibit you, and make you eat raw potatoesand tallow candles and tacks before an audience. "

He peeped furtively at Brown, who did not appear uneasy. 

"All I'm afraid of, " added Smith, sullenly, "is that you'll get yourselfinto vaudeville or the patrol wagon. "

He waited, but Brown made no reply. 

"Oh, very well, " he said, coldly. "I'll take a cab back to the boat. "

No observation from Brown. 

"So, _good_-by, old fellow"--with some emotion. 

"Good-by, " said Beekman Brown, absently. 

In fact, he did not even notice when his thoroughly offended partner leftthe car, so intent was he in following the subtly thrilling train ofthought which tantalized him, mocked him, led him nowhere, yet alwayslured him to fresh endeavor of memory. _Where_ had all this occurredbefore? When? What was going to happen next--happen inexorably, as it hadonce happened, or as it once should have happened, in some dim, bygoneage when he and that basket and that cat and this same hauntingly lovelygirl existed together on earth--or perhaps upon some planet, swimming farout beyond the ken of men with telescopes?

He looked at the girl, strove to consider her impersonally, for heryouthful beauty began to disturb him. Then cold doubt crept in; somethingof the monstrosity of the proceeding chilled his enthusiasm for occultresearch. Should he speak to her?

Certainly, it was a dreadful thing to do--an offense the enormity ofwhich was utterly inexcusable except under the stress of a purelyimpersonal and scientific necessity for investigating a mental phase ofhumanity which had always thrilled him with a curiosity most profound. 

He folded his arms and began to review in cold blood the circumstanceswhich had led to his present situation in a cross-town car. Number one, and he held up one finger:

As it comes, at times, to every normal human, the odd idea had come tohim that what he was saying and doing as he emerged from the subway atTimes Square was what he had, sometime, somewhere, said and done beforeunder similar circumstances. That was the beginning. 

Number two, and he gravely held up a second finger:

Always before when this idea had come to bother him it had faded after amoment or two, leaving him merely uneasy and dissatisfied. 

This time it persisted--intruding, annoying, exasperating him in hisefforts to remember things which he could not recollect. 

Number three, and he held up a third finger:

He _had_ begun to remember! As soon as he or Smith said or did anythinghe recollected having said or done it sometime, somewhere, or recollectedthat he _ought_ to have. 

Number four--four fingers in air, stiff, determined digits:

He had not only, by a violent concentration of his memory, succeeded inrecognizing the things said and done as having been said and done before, but suddenly he became aware that he was going to be able to foretell, vaguely, certain incidents that were yet to occur--like the prophesiedadvent of the cherry-colored car and the hat, gown, and wicker basket. 

He now had four fingers in the air; he examined them seriously, and thenstuck up the fifth. 

"Here I am, " he thought, "awake, perfectly sane, absolutely respectable. Why should a foolish terror of convention prevent me from asking thatgirl whether she knows anything which might throw some light on this mostinteresting mental phenomenon?. .. I'll do it. "

The girl turned her head slightly; speech and the politely perfunctorysmile froze on his lips. 

She held up one finger; Brown's heart leaped. _Was_ that some cabalisticsign which he ought to recognize? But she was merely signaling theconductor, who promptly pulled the bell and lifted her basket for herwhen she got off. 

She thanked him; Brown heard her, and the crystalline voice began to ringin little bell-like echoes all through his ears, stirring endless littlemysteries of memory. 

Brown also got off; his legs struck up a walk of their own volition, carrying him across the street, hoisting him into a north-bound LexingtonAvenue car, and landing him in a seat behind the one where she hadinstalled herself and her wicker basket. 

She seemed to be having some difficulty with the wicker basket;beseeching six-toed paws were thrust out persistently; soft meows pleadedfor the right of liberty and pursuit of feline happiness. Severalpassengers smiled. 

Trouble increased as the car whizzed northward; the meows became wilder;mad scrambles agitated the basket; the lid bobbed and creaked; the girlturned a vivid pink and, bending close over the basket, attempted tosoothe its enervated inmate. 

In the forties she managed to control the situation; in the fifties afrantic rush from within burst a string that fastened the basket lid, butthe girl held it down with energy. 

In the sixties a tempest broke loose in the basket; harrowing yowlspierced the atmosphere; the girl, crimson with embarrassment anddistress, signaled the conductor at Sixty-fourth Street and descended, clinging valiantly to a basket which apparently contained a pack offirecrackers in process of explosion. 

A classical heroine in dire distress invariably exclaims aloud: "Will_no_ one aid me?" Brown, whose automatic legs had compelled him tofollow, instinctively awaited some similar appeal. 

It came unexpectedly; the kicking basket escaped from her arms, the lidburst open, and an extraordinarily large, healthy and indignant cat flewout, tail as big as a duster, and fled east on Sixty-fourth Street. 

The girl in the summer gown and white straw hat ran after the cat. Brown's legs ran, too. 

There was, and is, between the house on the northeast corner of Sixty-fourth Street and Lexington Avenue and the next house on Sixty-fourth, anopen space guarded by an iron railing; through this the cat darted, furon end, and, with a flying leap, took to the back fences. 

"Oh!" gasped the girl. 

Then Brown's legs did an extraordinary thing--they began to scramble andkick and shin up the iron railing, hoisting Brown over; and Brown'svoice, pleasant, calm, reassuring, was busy, too: "If you will look outfor my suitcase I think I can recover your cat. .. . It will give me greatpleasure to recover your cat. I shall be very glad to have, theopportunity of recovering--puff--puff--your--puff--puff--c-cat!" And hedropped inside the iron railing and paused to recover his breath. 

The girl came up to the railing and gazed anxiously through at the cornerof the only back fence she could perceive. 

"What a perfectly dreadful thing to happen!" she said in a voice not verysteady. "It is exceedingly nice of you to help me catch Clarence. He isquite beside himself, poor lamb! You see, he has never before been in thecity. I--I shall be distressed beyond m-measure if he is lost. "

"He went over those fences, " said Brown, breathing faster. "I think I'dbetter go after him. "

"Oh--_would_ you mind? I'd be so very grateful. It seems so much to askof you. "

"I'll do it, " said Brown, firmly. "Every boy in New York has climbed backfences, and I'm only thirty. "

"It is most kind of you; but--but I don't know whether you could possiblyget him to come to you. Clarence is timid with strangers. "

Brown had already clambered on to the wooden fence. He balanced himselfthere, astride. Whitewash liberally decorated coat and trousers. 

"I see him, " he said. 

"W-what is he doing?"

"Squatting on a trellis three back yards away. " And Brown lifted ablandishing voice: "Here, Clarence--Clarence--Clarence! Here, kitty--kitty--kitty! Good pussy! Nice Clarence!"

"Does he come?" inquired the girl, peering wistfully through the railing. 

"He does not, " said Brown. "Perhaps you had better call. "

"Here, puss--puss--puss--puss!" she began gently in that fascinating, crystalline voice which seemed to set tiny silvery chimes ringing inBrown's ears: "Here, Clarence, darling--Betty's own little kitty-cat!"

"If he doesn't come to _that_, " thought Brown, "he _is_ a brute. " Andaloud: "If you could only let him see you; he sits there blinking at me. "

"Do you think he'd come if he saw me?"

"Who wouldn't?" thought Brown, and answered, calmly: "I think so. .. . Ofcourse, you couldn't get up here. "

"I could. .. . But I'd better not. .. . Besides, I live only a few housesaway--Number 161--and I _could_ go through into the back yard. "

"But you'd better not attempt to climb the fence. Have one of theservants do it; we'll get the cat between us then and corner him. "

"There are no servants in the house. It's closed for the summer--allboarded up!"

"Then how can you get in?"

"I have a key to the basement. .. . Shall I?"

"And climb up on the fence?"

"Yes--if I must--if it's necessary to save Clarence. .. . Shall I?"

"Why can't I shoo him into your yard. "

"He doesn't know our yard. He's a country cat; he's never stayed in town. I was taking him with me to Oyster Bay. .. . I came down from a week-end atStockbridge, where some relatives kept Clarence for us while we wereabroad during the winter. .. . I meant to stop and get some things in thehouse on my way back to Oyster Bay. .. . Isn't it a perfectly wretchedsituation?. .. We--the entire family--adore Clarence--and--I-I'm soanxious----"

Her fascinating underlip trembled, but she controlled it. 

"I'll get that cat if it takes a month!" said Brown. Then he flushed; hehad not meant to speak so warmly. 

The girl flushed too. I am so grateful. .. . But how----"

"Wait, " said Brown; and, addressing Clarence in a softly alluring voice, he began cautiously to crawl along the fences toward that unresponsiveanimal. Presently he desisted, partly on account of a conspiracy engagedin between his trousers and a rusty nail. The girl was now beyond rangeof his vision around the corner. 

"Miss--ah--Miss--er--er--Betty!" he called. 

"Yes!"

"Clarence has retreated over another back yard. "

"How horrid!"

"How far down do you live?"

She named the number of doors, anxiously adding: "Is Clarence fartherdown the block? Oh, please, be careful. Please, don't drive him past ouryard. If you will wait I--I'll let myself into the house and--I'll manageto get up on the fence. "

"You'll ruin your gown. "

"I don't care about my gown. "

"These fences are the limit! Full of spikes and nails. .. . Will you becareful?"

"Yes, very. "

"The nails are rusty. I--I am h-horribly afraid of lockjaw. "

"Then don't remain there an instant. "

"I mean--I'm afraid of it for you. "

There was a silence; they couldn't see each other. Brown's heart wasbeating fast. 

"It is very generous of you to--think of me, " came her voice, lower butvery friendly. 

"I ca-can't avoid it, " he stammered, and wanted to kick himself for whathe had blurted out. 

Another pause--longer this time. And then:

"I am going to enter my house and climb up on the fence. .. . Would youmind waiting a moment?"

"I will wait here, " said Beekman Brown, "until I see you. " He added tohimself: "I'm going mad rapidly and I know it and don't care. .. . _What_--a--girl!"

While he waited, legs swinging, astride the back fence, he examined hisinjuries--thoughtfully touched the triangular tear in his trousers, inspected minor sartorial and corporeal lacerations, set his hat firmlyupon his head, and gazed across the monotony of the back-yard fences atClarence. The cat eyed him disrespectfully, paws tucked under, tailcurled up against his well-fed flank--disillusioned, disgusted, unapproachable. 

Presently, through the palings of a back yard on Sixty-fifth Street, Brown saw a small boy, evidently the progeny of some caretaker, regardinghim intently. 

"Say, mister, " he began as soon as noticed, "you have tore your pants ona nail. "

"Thanks, " said Brown, coldly; "will you be good enough to mind yourbusiness?"

"I thought I'd tell you, " said the small boy, delightedly aware that theinformation displeased Brown. "They're tore awful, too. That's what youget for playin' onto back fences. Y'orter be ashamed. "

Brown feigned unconsciousness and folded his arms with dignity; but thenext moment he straightened up, quivering. 

"You young devil!" he said; "if you pull that slingshot again I'll comeover there and destroy you!"

At the same moment above the fence line down the block a white straw hatappeared; then a youthful face becomingly flushed; then two dainty, gloved hands grasping the top of the fence. 

"I am here, " she called across to him. 

The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediatelyjoined the conversation:

"Your girl's a winner, mister, " he observed, critically. 

"Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence. 

"Sure, " said the small boy, carelessly. 

And, settling down on his lofty perch of observation, he began singing:

_"Lum' me an' the woild is mi-on. _"

The girl's cheeks became pinker; she looked at the small boy appealingly. 

"Little boy, " she said, "if you'll run away somewhere I'll give you tencents. "

"No, " said the terror, "I want to see him an' you catch that cat. "

"I'll tell you what I'll do, " suggested Brown, inspired. "I'll give you adollar if you'll help us catch the cat. "

"You're on!" said the boy, briskly. "What'll I do? Touch her up with thisbean-shooter?"

"No; put that thing into your pocket!" exclaimed Brown, sharply. "Nowclimb across to Sixty-fourth Street and stand by that iron railing sothat the cat can't bolt out into the street, and, " he added, wrapping adollar bill around a rusty nail and tossing it across the fence, "here'swhat's coming to you. "

The small boy scrambled over nimbly, ran squirrel-like across thetransverse fence, dipped, swarmed over the iron railing and stood onguard. 

"Say, mister, " he said, "if the cat starts this way you and your girlstart a hollerin' like----"

"All right, " interrupted Brown, and turned toward the vision ofloveliness and distress which was now standing on the top of her own backfence holding fast to a wistaria trellis and flattering Clarence with lowand honeyed appeals. 

The cat, however, was either too stupid or too confused to respond; hegazed blankly at his mistress, and when Brown began furtively edging hisway toward him Clarence arose, stood a second in alert indecision, thenbegan to back away. 

"We've got him between us!" called out Brown. "If you'll stand ready toseize him when I drive him----"

There was a wild scurry, a rush, a leap, frantic clawing for foothold. 

"Now, Miss Betty! Quick!" cried Brown. "Don't let him pass you. "

She spread her skirts, but the shameless Clarence rushed headlong betweenthe most delicately ornamental pair of ankles in Manhattan. 

"Oh-h!" cried the girl in soft despair, and made a futile clutch; but shecould not arrest the flight of Clarence, she merely upset him, turninghim for an instant into a furry pinwheel, whirling through mid-air, landing in her yard, rebounding like a rubber ball, and disappearing, with one flying leap, into a narrow opening in the basement masonry. 

"Where is he?" asked Brown, precariously balanced on the next fence. 

"Do you know, " she said, "this is becoming positively ghastly. He'sbolted into our cellar. "

"Why, that's all right, isn't it?" asked Brown. "All you have to do is togo inside, descend to the cellar, and light the gas. "

"There's no gas. "

"You have electric light?"

"Yes, but it's turned off at the main office. The house is closed for thesummer, you know. "

Brown, balancing cautiously, walked the intervening fence like an amateuron a tightrope. 

Her pretty hat was a trifle on one side; her cheeks brilliant withexcitement and anxiety. Utterly oblivious of herself and of appearancesin her increasing solicitude for the adored Clarence, she sat the fence, cross saddle, balancing with one hand and pointing with the other to thebarred ventilator into which Clarence had darted. 

A wisp of sunny hair blew across her crimson cheek; slender, active, excitedly unconscious of self, she seemed like some eager, adorablelittle gamin perched there, intent on mischief. 

"If you'll drop into our yard, " she said, "and place that soap boxagainst the ventilator, Clarence can't get out that way!"

It was done before she finished the request. She disengaged herself fromthe fencetop, swung over, hung an instant, and dropped into a soft flowerbed. 

Breathing fast, disheveled, they confronted one another on the grass. Hisblue suit of serge was smeared with whitewash; her gown was a sight. Shefelt for her hat instinctively, repinned it at hazard, looked at hergloves, and began to realize what she had done. 

"I--I couldn't help it, " she faltered; "I couldn't leave Clarence in acity of five m-million strangers--all alone--terrified out of his senses--could I? I had rather--rather be thought--anything than be c-cruel to ahelpless animal. "

Brown dared not trust himself to answer. She was too beautiful and hisemotion was too deep. So he bent over and attempted to dust his garmentswith the flat of his hand. 

"I am so sorry, " she said in a low voice. "Are your clothes quiteruined?"

"Oh, I don't mind, " he protested happily, "I really don't mind a bit. Ifyou'll only let me help you corner that infern--that unfortunate cat Ishall be perfectly happy. "

She said, with heightened color: "It is exceedingly nice of you to sayso. .. . I--I don't quite know--what do you think we had better do?"

"Suppose, " he said, "you go into the basement, unlock the cellar door andcall. He can't bolt this way. "

She nodded and entered the house. A few moments later he heard hercalling, so persuasively that it was all he could do not to run to her, and why on earth that cat didn't he never could understand. 

[Illustration]

XI

BETTY

_In Which the Remorseless and Inexorable Results of Psychical ResearchAre Revealed to the Very Young_

At intervals for the next ten minutes her fresh, sweet, fascinating voicecame to him where he stood in the yard; then he heard it growing fainter, more distant, receding; then silence. 

Listening, he suddenly heard a far, rushing sound from subterraneandepths--like a load of coal being put in--then a frightened cry. 

He sprang into the basement, ran through laundry and kitchen. The cellardoor swung wide open above the stairs which ran down into darkness; andas he halted to listen Clarence dashed up out of the depths, scuttledaround the stairs and fled upward into the silent regions above. 

"Betty!" he cried, forgetting in his alarm the lesser conventions, "whereare you?"

"Oh, dear--oh, dear!" she wailed. "I am in such a dreadful plight. Couldyou help me, please?"

"Are you hurt?" he asked. Fright made his voice almost inaudible. Hestruck a match with shaking fingers and ran down the cellar stairs. 

"Betty! Where are you?"

"Oh, I am here--in the coal. "

"What?"

"I--I can't seem to get out; I stepped into the coal pit in the dark andit all--all slid with me and over me and I'm in it up to the shoulders. "

Another match flamed; he saw a stump of a candle, seized it, lighted it, and, holding it aloft, gazed down upon the most heart rending spectaclehe had ever witnessed. 

The next instant he grasped a shovel and leaped to the rescue. She wasquite calm about it; the situation was too awful, the future too hopelessfor mere tears. What had happened contained all the dignified elements ofa catastrophe. They both realized it, and when, madly shoveling, he atlast succeeded in releasing her she leaned her full weight on his own, breathing rapidly, and suffered him to support and guide her through theflame-shot darkness to the culinary regions above. 

Here she sank down on a chair for one moment in utter collapse. Then shelooked up, resolutely steadying her voice:

"Could anything on earth more awful have happened to a girl?" she asked, lips quivering in spite of her. She stretched out what had once been apair of white gloves, she looked down at what had been a delicate summergown of white. "How, " she asked with terrible calmness, "am I to get toOyster Bay?"

He dropped on to a kitchen chair opposite her, clasping his coal-stainedhands between his knees, utterly incapable of speech. 

She looked at her shoes--once snowy white; with a shudder she strippedthe soiled gloves from elbow to wrist and flung them aside. Her arms andhands formed a starling contrast to the remainder of the ensemble. 

"What, " she asked, "am I to do?"

"The thing to do, " he said, "is to telephone to your family at OysterBay. "

"The telephone has been disconnected. So has the water--we can't evenw-wash our hands!" she faltered. 

He said: "I can go out and telephone to your family to send a maid withsome clothes for you--if you don't mind being left alone in an emptyhouse for a little while. "

"No, I don't; but, " she gazed uncertainly at the black opening of thecellar, "but, please, don't be gone very long, will you?"

He promised fervidly. She gave him the number and her family's name, andhe left by the basement door. 

He was gone a long time, during which, for a while, she paced the floor, unaffectedly wringing her hands and contemplating herself and hergarments in the laundry looking-glass. 

At intervals she tried to turn on the water, hoping for a few drops atleast; at intervals she sat down to wait for him; then, the inactionbecoming unendurable, musing goaded her into motion, and she ascended tothe floor above, groping through the dimness in futile search forClarence. She heard him somewhere in obscurity, scurrying under furnitureat her approach, evidently too thoroughly demoralized to recognize hervoice. So, after a while, she gave it up and wandered down to the pantry, instinct leading her, for she was hungry and thirsty; but she knew therecould be nothing eatable in a house closed for the summer. 

She lifted the pantry window and opened the blinds; noon sunshine floodedthe place, and she began opening cupboards and refrigerators, growinghungrier every moment. 

Then her eyes fell upon dozens of bottles of Apollinaris, and with alittle cry of delight she knelt down, gathered up all she could carry, and ran upstairs to the bathroom adjoining her own bedchamber. 

"At least, " she said to herself, "I can cleanse myself of this dreadfulcoal!" and in a few moments she was reveling, elbow deep, in a marblebasin brimming with Apollinaris. 

As the stain of the coal disappeared she remembered a rose-coloredmorning gown reposing in her bedroom clothespress; and she found morethan that there--rose stockings and slippers and a fragrant pile ofexquisitely fine and more intimate garments, so tempting in theirfreshness that she hurried with them into the dressing room; then beganto make rapid journeys up and downstairs, carrying dozens of quarts ofApollinaris to the big porcelain tub, into which she emptied them, talking happily to herself all the time. 

"If he returns I can talk to him over the banisters!. .. He's a niceboy. .. . Such a funny boy not to remember me. .. . And I've thought of himquite often. .. . I wonder if I've time for just one, delicious plunge?"She listened; ran to the front windows and looked out through the blinds. He was nowhere in sight. 

Ten minutes later, delightfully refreshed, she stood regarding herself inher lovely rose-tinted morning gown, patting her bright hair intodiscipline with slim, deft fingers, a half-smile on her lips, lidsclosing a trifle over the pensive violet eyes. 

"Now, " she said aloud, "I'll talk to him over the banisters when hereturns; it's a little ungracious, I suppose, after all he has done, butit's more conventional. .. . And I'll sit here and read until they sendsomebody from Sandcrest with a gown I can travel in. .. . And then we'llcatch Clarence and call a cab----"

A distant tinkling from the area bell interrupted her. 

"Oh, dear, " she exclaimed, "I quite forgot that I had to let him in!"

Another tinkle. She cast a hurried and doubtful glance over her attire. It was designed for the intimacy of her boudoir. 

"I--I _couldn't_ talk to him out of the window! I've been shocking enoughas it is!" she thought; and, finger tips on the banisters, she ran downthe three stairs and appeared at the basement grille, breathless, radiant, forgetting, as usual, her self-consciousness in thinking of him, a habit of this somewhat harebrained and headlong girl which had its rootin perfect health of body and wholesomeness of mind. 

"I found some clothes--not the sort I can go out in!" she said, laughingat his astonishment, as she unlocked the grille. "So, please, overlook myattire; I was _so_ full of coal dust! and I found sufficient Apollinarisfor my necessities. .. . _What_ did they say at Sandcrest?"

He said very soberly: "We've got to discuss this situation. Perhaps I hadbetter come in for a few minutes--if you don't mind. "

"No, I don't mind. .. . Shall we sit in the drying room?" leading the way. "Now tell me what is the matter? You rather frighten me, you know. Is--isanything wrong at Sandcrest?"

"No, I suppose not. " He touched his flushed face with his handkerchief;"I couldn't get Oyster Bay on the 'phone. "

"W-why not?"

"The wires are out of commission as far as Huntington; there's no use--Itried everything! Telegraph and telephone wires were knocked out in thismorning's electric storm, it seems. "

She gazed at him, hands folded on her knee, left leg crossed over, footswinging. 

"This, " she said calmly, "is becoming serious. Will you tell me what I amto do?"

"Haven't you anything to travel in?"

"Not one solitary rag. "

"Then--you'll have to stay here to-night and send for some of yourfriends--you surely know somebody who is still in town, don't you?"

"I really don't. This is the middle of July. I don't know a woman intown. "

He was silent. 

"Besides, " she said, "we have no light, no water, nothing to eat in thehouse, no telephone to order anything----"

He said: "I foresaw that you would probably be obliged to remain here, sowhen I left the telephone office I took the liberty of calling a taxi andvisiting the electric light people, the telephone people and the nearestplumber. It seems he is your own plumber--Quinn, I believe his name is;and he's coming in half an hour to turn on the water. "

"Did you think of doing all that?" she asked, astonished. 

"Oh, that wasn't anything. And I ventured to telephone the Plaza to serveluncheon and dinner here for you----"

"You _did?_"

"And I wired to Dooley's Agency to send you a maid for to-day----"

"That was perfectly splendid of you!"

"They promised to send one as soon as possible. .. . And I think that maybe the plumber now, " as a tinkle came from the area bell. 

It was not the plumber; it was waiters bearing baskets full of silver, china, table linen, ice, fruits, confections, cut flowers, and, inwarmers, a most delectable luncheon. 

Four impressive individuals commanded by a butler formed theprocessional, filing solemnly up the basement stairs to the dining room, where they instantly began to lay the table with dexterous celerity. 

In the drying room below Betty and Beekman Brown stood confronting eachother. 

"I suppose, " began Brown with an effort, "that I had better go now. "

Betty said thoughtfully: "I suppose you must. "

"Unless, " continued Brown, "you think I had better remain--somewhere onthe premises--until your maid arrives. "

"That might be safer, " said Betty, more thoughtfully. 

"Your maid will probably be here in a few minutes. "

"Probably, " said Betty, head bent, slim, ringless fingers busy with thesparkling drop that glimmered pendant from her neckchain. 

Silence--the ironing board between them--she standing, bright headlowered, worrying the jewel with childish fingers; he following everymovement, fascinated, spellbound. 

After a moment, without looking up: "You have been very, very nice to me--in the nicest possible way, " she said. .. . "I am not going to forget iteasily--even if I might wish to. "

"I can never forget _you!_. .. I d-don't want to. "

The sparkling pendant escaped her fingers; she picked it up again andspoke as though gravely addressing it:

"Some day somewhere, " she said, looking at the jewel, "perhaps chance--the hazard of life--may bring us to--togeth--to acquaintance--a moreformal acquaintance than this. .. . I hope so. This has been a little--irregular, and perhaps you had better not wait for my maid. .. . I hope wemay meet--sometime. "

"I hope so, too, " he managed to say, with so little fervor and sosuccessful an imitation of her politely detached interest in conventionthat she raised her eyes. They dropped immediately, because his quietvoice and speech scarcely conformed to the uncontrolled protest in hiseyes. 

For a moment she stood, passing the golden links through her whitefingers like a young novice with a rosary. Steps on the stairs disturbedthem; the recessional had begun; four solemn persons filed out the areagate. At the same moment, suave and respectful, her butler pro tem. Presented himself at the doorway:

"Luncheon is served, madam. "

"Thank you. " She looked uncertainly at Brown, hesitated, flushed atrifle. 

"I will stay here and admit the plumber and then--then--I'll g-go, " hesaid with a heartbroken smile. 

"I suppose you took the opportunity to lunch when you went out?" shesaid. Her inflection made it a question. 

Without answering he stepped back to allow her to pass. She movedforward, turned, undecided. 

"_Have_ you lunched?"

"Please don't feel that you ought to ask me, " he began, and checkedhimself as the vivid pink deepened in her cheeks. Then she freed herselfof embarrassment with a little laugh. 

"Considering, " she said, "that we have been chasing cats on the backfences together and that, subsequently, you dug me out of the coal in myown cellar, I can't believe it is very dreadful if I ask you to luncheonwith me. .. . Is it?"

"It is ador--it is, " he corrected himself firmly, "exceedingly civil ofyou to ask me!"

"Then--will you?" almost timidly. 

"I will. I shall not pretend any more. I'd rather lunch with you than bePresident of this Republic. "

The butler pro tem. Seated her. 

"You see, " she said, "a place had already been laid for you. " And withthe faintest trace of malice in her voice: "Perhaps your butler had hisorders to lay two covers. Had he?"

"From me?" he protested, reddening. 

"You don't suspect _me_, do you?" she asked, adorably mischievous. Thenglancing over the masses of flowers in the center and at the corners ofthe lace cloth: "This is deliciously pretty. But you are eitherdreadfully and habitually extravagant or you believe I am. Which is it?"

"I think both are true, " he said, laughing. 

And a little while later when he returned from the basement afteradmitting Mr. Quinn, the plumber:

"Do you know that this is a most heavenly luncheon?" she said, greetinghis return with delightfully fearless eyes. "Such Astrakan caviar! Suchsalad! Everything I care for most. And how on earth you guessed I can'timagine. .. . I'm beginning to think you are rather wonderful. "

They lifted the long, slender glasses of iced Ceylon tea and regarded oneanother over the frosty rims--a long, curious glance from her; a straightgaze from him, which she decided not to sustain too long. 

Later, when she gave the signal, they rose as though they had often dinedtogether, and moved leisurely out through the dim, shrouded drawing-roomswhere, in the golden dusk, the odor of camphor hung. 

She had taken a great cluster of dewy Bride's roses from the centerpiece, and as she walked forward, sedately youthful, beside him, her fresh, young face brooded over the fragrance of the massed petals. 

"Sweet--how sweet!" she murmured to herself, and as they reached the endof the vista she half turned to face him, dreamily, listless, confident. 

They looked at one another, she with chin brushing the roses. 

"The strangest of all, " she said, "is that it _seems_ all right--and--andwe _know_ that it is all quite wrong. .. . Had you better go?"

"Unless I ought to wait and make sure your maid does not fail you. .. . Shall I?" he asked evenly. 

She did not answer. He drew a linen-swathed armchair toward her; sheabsently seated herself and lay back, caressing the roses with delicatelips and chin. 

Twice she looked up at him, standing there by the boarded windows. Sunshine filtered through the latticework at the top--enough for them tosee each other as in a dull afterglow. 

"I wonder how soon my maid will come, " she mused, dropping the looseroses on her knees. "If she is going to be very long about it perhaps--perhaps you might care to find a chair--if you have decided to wait. "

He drew one from a corner and seated himself, pulses hammering histhroat. 

Through the stillness of the house sounded at intervals the clink ofglass from the pantry. Other sounds from above indicated the plumber'sprogress from floor to floor. 

"Do you realize, " she said impulsively, "how _very_ nice you have been tome? What a perfectly horrid position I might have been in, with poorClarence on the back fence! And suppose I had dared follow him alone tothe cellar? I--I might have been there yet--up to my neck in coal?"

She gazed into space with considerable emotion. 

"And now, " she said, "I am safe here in my own home. I have luncheddivinely, a maid is on the way to me, Clarence remains somewhere safeindoors, Mr. Quinn is flitting from faucet to faucet, the electric lightand the telephone will be in working order before very long--and it is_all_ due to you!"

"I--I did a few things I almost w-wish I hadn't, " stammered Brown, "b-because I can't, somehow, decently t-tell you how tremendouslyI--I--" He stuck fast. 

"What?"

"It would look as though I were presuming on a t-trifling servicerendered, and--oh, I can't say it; I want to, but I can't. "

"Say what? Please, I don't mind what you are--are going to say. "

"It's--it's that I----"

"Y-es?" in soft encouragement. 

"W-want to know you most tremendously now. I don't want to wait severalyears for chance and hazard. "

"O-h!" as though the information conveyed a gentle shock to her. Her low-breathed exclamation nearly finished Brown. 

"I knew you'd think it unpardonable for me--at such a time--to ventureto--to--ask--say--express--convey----"

"Why do you--how can I--where could we--" She recovered herselfresolutely. "I do not think we ought to take advantage of an accidentlike this. .. . Do you? Besides, probably, in the natural course of socialevents----"

"But it may be years! months! weeks!" insisted Brown, losing control ofhimself. 

"I should hope it would at least be a decently reasonable interval ofseveral weeks----"

"But I don't know what to do if I never see you again for weeks! I c-careso much--for--you. "

She shrank back in her chair, and in her altered face he read that he haddisgraced himself. 

"I knew I was going to, " he said in despair. "I couldn't keep it--Icouldn't stop it. And now that you see what sort of a man I am I'm goingto tell you more. "

"You need not, " she said faintly. 

"I must. Listen! I--I don't even know your full name--all I know is thatit is Betty, and that your cat's name is Clarence and your plumber's nameis Quinn. But if I didn't know anything at all concerning you it wouldhave been the same. I suppose you will think me insane if I tell you thatbefore the car, on which you rode, came into sight I _knew_ you were onit. And I--cared--for--you--before I ever saw you. "

"I don't understand----"

"I know you don't. _I_ don't. All I understand is that what you and Ihave done has been done by us before, sometime, somewhere--part only--down to--down to where you changed cars. Up to that moment, before youtook the Lexington Avenue car, I recognized each incident as itoccurred. .. . But when all this happened to us before I must have lostcourage--for I did not recognize anything after that except that I caredfor you. .. . _Do_ you understand one single word of what I have beensaying?"

The burning color in her face had faded slowly while he was speaking; herlifted eyes grew softer, serious, as he ended impetuously. 

She looked at him in retrospective silence. There was no mistaking hisastonishing sincerity, his painfully earnest endeavor to impart to hersome rather unusual ideas in which he certainly believed. No man wholooked that way at a woman could mean impertinence; her own intelligencesatisfied her that he had not meant and could never mean offense to anywoman. 

"Tell me, " she said quietly, "just what you mean. It is not possible foryou to--care--for--me. .. . Is it?"

He disclosed to her, beginning briefly with his own name, material andsocial circumstances, a pocket edition of his hitherto uneventful career, the advent that morning of the emissary from The Green Mouse, hisdiscussion with Smith, the strange sensation which crept over him as heemerged from the tunnel at Forty-second Street, his subsequentaltercation with Smith, and the events that ensued up to the eruption ofClarence. 

He spoke in his most careful attorney's manner, frank, concise, convincing, free from any exaggeration of excitement or emotion. And shelistened, alternately fascinated and appalled as, step by step, his storyunfolded the links in an apparently inexorable sequence involving thisyoung man and herself in a predestined string of episodes not yet ended--if she permitted herself to credit this astounding story. 

Sensitively intelligent, there was no escaping the significance of theonly possible deduction. She drew it and blushed furiously. For a moment, as the truth clamored in her brain, the self-evidence of it stunned her. But she was young, and the shamed recoil came automatically. Incredulous, almost exasperated, she raised her head to confront him; the red lipsparted in outraged protest--parted and remained so, wordless, silent--thesoundless, virginal cry dying unuttered on a mouth that had imperceptiblybegun to tremble. 

Her head sank slowly; she laid her white hands above the roses heaped inher lap. 

For a long while she remained so. And he did not speak. 

First the butler went away. Then Mr. Quinn followed. The maid had not yetarrived. The house was very still. 

And after the silence had worn his self-control to the breaking point herose and walked to the dining room and stood looking down into the yard. The grass out there was long and unkempt; roses bloomed on the fence;wistaria, in its deeper green of midsummer, ran riot over the trelliswhere Clarence had basely dodged his lovely mistress, and, after making afurry pin wheel of himself, had fled through the airhole into Stygiandepths. 

Somewhere above, in the silent house, Clarence was sulkily dissembling. 

"I suppose, " said Brown, quietly coming back to where the girl wassitting in the golden dusk, "that I might as well find Clarence while weare waiting for your maid. May I go up and look about?"

And taking her silence as assent, he started upstairs. 

He hunted carefully, thoroughly, opening doors, peeping under furniture, investigating clothespresses, listening at intervals, at intervalscalling with misleading mildness. But, like him who died in malmsey, Clarence remained perjured and false to all sentiments of decency sooften protested purringly to his fair young mistress. 

Mechanically Brown opened doors of closets, knowing, if he had stopped tothink, that cats don't usually turn knobs and let themselves into tightlyclosed places. 

In one big closet on the fifth floor, however, as soon as he opened thedoor there came a rustle, and he sprang forward to intercept theperfidious one; but it was only the air stirring the folds of garmentshanging on the wall. 

As he turned to step forth again the door gently closed with an ominousclick, shutting him inside. And after five minutes' frantic fussing herealized that he was imprisoned by a spring lock at the top of a strangehouse, inhabited only by a cat and a bewildered young girl, who might, atany moment now that the telephone was in order, call a cab and flee froma man who had tried to explain to her that they were irrevocablypredestined for one another. 

Calling and knocking were dignified and permissible, but they did nogood. To kick violently at the door was not dignified, but he was obligedto do it. Evidently the closet was too remote for the sound to penetratedown four flights of stairs. 

He tried to break down the door--they do it in all novels. He onlyrebounded painfully, ineffectively, which served him right for readingfiction. 

It irked him to shout; he hesitated for a long while; then suddenmisgiving lest she might flee the house seized him and he bellowed. Itwas no use. 

The pitchy quality of the blackness in the closet aided him in bruisinghimself; he ran into a thousand things of all kinds of shapes andtextures every time he moved. And at each fresh bruise he grew madder andmadder, and, holding the cat responsible, applied language to Clarence ofwhich he had never dreamed himself capable. 

Then he sat down. He remained perfectly still for a long while, listeningand delicately feeling his hurts. A curious drowsiness began to irritatehim; later the irritation subsided and he felt a little sleepy. 

His heart, however, thumped like an inexpensive clock; the cedar-taintedair in the closet grew heavier; he felt stupid, swaying as he rose. Nowonder, for the closet was as near air-tight as it could be made. Fortunately he did not realize it. 

And, meanwhile, downstairs, Betty was preparing for flight. 

She did not know where she was going--how far away she could get in arose-silk morning gown. But she had discovered, in a clothespress, anautomobile duster, cap, and goggles; on the strength of these she triedthe telephone, found it working, summoned a coupé, and was now awaitingits advent. But the maid from Dooley's must first arrive to take chargeof the house and Clarence until she, Betty, could summon her family toher assistance and defy The Green Mouse, Beekman Brown, and Destinybehind her mother's skirts. 

Flight was, therefore, imperative--it was absolutely indispensable thatshe put a number of miles between herself and this young man who had justinformed her that Fate had designed them for one another. 

She was no longer considering whether she owed this amazing young man anygratitude, or what sort of a man he might be, agreeable, well-bred, attractive; all she understood was that this man had suddenly steppedinto her life, politely expressing his conviction that they could not, ultimately, hope to escape from each other. And, beginning to realize theawful import of his words, the only thing that restrained her frominstant flight on foot was the hidden Clarence. She could not abandon hercat. She must wait for that maid. She waited. Meanwhile she hunted upDooley's Agency in the telephone book and called them up. They told herthe maid was on the way--as though Dooley's Agency could thwart Destinywith a whole regiment of its employees!

She had discarded her roses with a shudder; cap, goggles, duster, lay inher lap. If the maid came before Brown returned she'd flee. If Brown cameback before the maid arrived she'd tell him plainly what she had decidedon, thank him, tell him kindly but with decision that, considering theincredible circumstances of their encounter, she must decline toencourage any hope he might entertain of ever again seeing her. 

At this stern resolve her heart, being an automatic and independentaffair, refused to approve, and began an unpleasantly irregular series ofbeats which annoyed her. 

"It is true, " she admitted to herself, "that he is a gentleman, and I canscarcely be rude enough, after what he has done for me, to leave himwithout any explanation at all. .. . His clothes are ruined. I mustremember that. "

Her heart seemed to approve such sentiments, and it beat more regularlyas she seated herself at a desk, found in it a sheet of notepaper and apencil, and wrote rapidly:

"_Dear Mr. Brown:_

"If my maid comes before you do I am going. I can't help it. The maidwill stay to look after Clarence until I can return with some of thefamily. I don't mean to be rude, but I simply cannot stand what you toldme about our--about what you told me. .. . I'm sorry you tore your clothes. 

"Please believe my flight has nothing to do with you personally or yourconduct, which was perfectly ('charming' scratched out) proper. It isonly that to be suddenly told that one is predestined to ('marry'scratched out) become intimately acquainted (all this scratched out and anew line begun). 

"It is unendurable for a girl to think that there is no freedom of choicein life left her--to be forced, by what you say are occult currents, into--friendship--with a perfectly strange man at the other end. So Idon't think we had better ever again attempt to find anybody to presentus to each other. This doesn't sound right, but you will surelyunderstand. 

"Please do not misjudge me. I must appear to you uncivil, ungrateful, andchildish--but I am, somehow, a little frightened. I know you areperfectly nice--but all that has happened is almost, in a way, terrifyingto me. Not that I am cowardly; but you must understand. You will--won'tyou?. .. . But what is the use of my asking you, as I shall never see youagain. 

"So I am only going to thank you, and say ('with all my heart' crossedout) very cordially, that you have been most kind, most generous andconsiderate--most--most----"

 * * * * *

Her pencil faltered; she looked into space, and the image of BeekmanBrown, pleasant-eyed, attractive, floated unbidden out of vacancy andlooked at her. 

She stared back at the vision curiously, more curiously as her mindevoked the agreeable details of his features, resting there, chin on theback of her hand, from which, presently, the pencil fell unheeded. 

What could he be doing upstairs all this while. She had not heard him formany minutes now. Why was he so still?

She straightened up at her desk and glanced uneasily across her shoulder, listening. 

Not a sound from above; she rose and walked to the foot of the stairs. 

Why was he so still? Had he found Clarence? Had anything gone wrong? HadClarence become suddenly rabid and attacked him. Cats can't annihilatebig, strong young men. But _where_ was he? Had he, pursuing his quest, emerged through the scuttle on to the roof--and--and--fallen off?

Scarcely knowing what she did she mounted on tiptoe to the second floor, listening. The silence troubled her; she went from room to room, openingdoors and clothespresses. Then she mounted to the third floor, searchingmore quickly. On the fourth floor she called to him in a voice not quitesteady. There was no reply. 

Alarmed now, she hurriedly flung open doors everywhere, then, picking upher rose-silk skirts, she ran to the top floor and called tremulously. 

A faint sound answered; bewildered, she turned to the first closet athand, and her cheeks suddenly blanched as she sprang to the door of thecedar press and tore it wide open. 

He was lying on his face amid a heap of rolled rugs, clothes hangers andfurs, quite motionless. 

She knew enough to run into the servants' rooms, fling open the windowsand, with all the strength in her young body, drag the inanimate youthacross the floor and into the fresh air. 

"O-h!" she said, and said it only once. Then, ashy of lip and cheek, shetook hold of Brown and, lashing her memory to help her in the emergency, performed for that inanimate gentleman the rudiments of an exercisewhich, if done properly, is supposed to induce artificial respiration. 

It certainly induced something resembling it in Brown. After a while hemade unlovely and inarticulate sounds; after a while the sounds becamearticulate. He said: "Betty!" several times, more or less distinctly. Heopened one eye, then the other; then his hands closed on the hands thatwere holding his wrists; he looked up at her from where he lay on thefloor. She, crouched beside him, eyes still dilated with the awful fearof death, looked back, breathless, trembling. 

"That is a devil of a place, that closet, " he said faintly. 

She tried to smile, tried wearily to free her hands, watched them, dazed, being drawn toward him, drawn tight against his lips--felt his lips onthem. 

Then, without warning, an incredible thrill shot through her to theheart, stilling it--silencing pulse and breath--nay, thought itself. Sheheard him speaking; his words came to her like distant sounds in a dream:

"I cared for you. You give me life--and I adore you. .. . Let me. It willnot harm you. The problem of life is solved for me; I have solved it; butunless some day you will prove it for me--Betty--the problem of life isbut a sorry sum--a total of ciphers without end. .. . No other two peoplein all the world could be what we are and what we have been to eachother. No other two people could dare to face what we dare face. " Hepaused: "Dare we, Betty?"

Her eyes turned from his. He rose unsteadily, supported on one arm; shesprang to her feet, looked at him, and, as he made an awkward effort torise, suddenly bent forward and gave him both hands in aid. 

"Wait--wait!" she said; "let me try to think, if I can. Don't speak to meagain--not yet--not now. "

But, at intervals, as they descended the flights of stairs, she turnedinstinctively to watch his progress, for he still moved with difficulty. 

In the drawing-room they halted, he leaning heavily on the back of achair, she, distrait, restless, pacing the polished parquet, treading herroses under foot, turning from time to time to look at him--a strange, direct, pure-lidded gaze that seemed to freshen his very soul. 

Once he stooped and picked up one of the trodden roses bruised by herslim foot; once, as she passed him, pacing absently the space between thedoor and him, he spoke her name. 

But: "Wait!" she breathed. "You have said everything. It is for me toreply--if I speak at all. C-can't you wait for--me?"

"Have I angered you?"

She halted, head high, superb in her slim, young beauty. 

"Do I look it?"

"I don't know. "

"Nor I. Let me find out. "

The room had become dimmer; the light on her hair and face and handsglimmered dully as she passed and re-passed him in her restless progress--restless, dismayed, frightened progress toward a goal she already sawahead--close ahead of her--every time she turned to look at him. Shealready knew the end. 

_That_ man! And she knew that already he must be, for her, something thatshe could never again forget--something she must reckon with forever andever while life endured. 

She paused and inspected him almost insolently. Suddenly the rush of thelast revolt overwhelmed her; her eyes blazed, her white hands tightenedinto two small clenched fists--and then tumult died in her ringing ears, the brightness of the eyes was quenched, her hands relaxed, her head sanklow, lower, never again to look on this man undismayed, heart free, unafraid--never again to look into this man's eyes with the unthinking, unbelieving tranquillity born of the most harmless skepticism in theworld. 

She stood there in silence, heard his step beside her, raised her headwith an effort. 

"Betty!"

Her hands quivered, refusing surrender. He bent and lifted them, pressingthem to his eyes, his forehead. Then lowered them to the level of hislips, holding them suspended, eyes looking into hers, waiting. 

Suddenly her eyes closed, a convulsive little tremor swept her, shepressed both clasped hands against his lips, her own moved, but no wordscame--only a long, sweet, soundless sigh, soft as the breeze that stirsthe crimson maple buds when the snows of spring at last begin to melt. 

From a dark corner under the piano Clarence watched them furtively. 

[Illustration]

XII

SYBILLA

_Showing What Comes of Disobedience, Rosium, and Flour-Paste_

About noon Bushwyck Carr bounced into the gymnasium, where the tripletshad just finished their fencing lesson. 

"Did any of you three go into the laboratory this morning?" he demanded, his voice terminating in a sort of musical bellow, like the blast of amellow French horn on a touring car. 

The triplets--Flavilla, Drusilla, and Sybilla--all clothed preciselyalike in knee kilts, plastrons, gauntlets and masks, came to attention, saluting their parent with their foils. The Boznovian fencing mistress, Madame Tzinglala, gracefully withdrew to the dressing room and departed. 

"Which of you three girls went into the laboratory this morning?"repeated their father impatiently. 

The triplets continued to stand in a neat row, the buttons of their foilsaligned and resting on the hardwood floor. In graceful unison theyremoved their masks; three flushed and unusually pretty faces regardedthe author of their being attentively--more attentively still when thatround and ruddy gentleman, executing a facial contortion, screwed hismonocle into an angry left eye and glared. 

"Didn't I warn you to keep out of that laboratory?" he asked wrathfully;"didn't I explain to you that it was none of your business? I believe Iinformed you that whatever is locked up in that room is no concern ofyours. Didn't I?"

"Yes, Pa-_pah_. "

"Well, confound it, what did you go in for, then?"

An anxious silence was his answer. "You didn't all go in, did you?" hedemanded in a melodious bellow. 

"Oh, no, Pa-_pah!_"

"Did two of you go?"

"Oh-h, n-o, Pa-_pah!_"

"Well, which one did?"

The line of beauty wavered for a moment; then Sybilla stepped slowly tothe front, three paces, and halted with downcast eyes. 

"I told you not to, didn't I?" said her father, scowling the monocle outof his eye and reinserting it. 

"Y-yes, Pa-_pah_. "

"But you _did?_"

"Y-yes----"

"That will do! Flavilla! Drusilla! You are excused, " dismissing the twoguiltless triplets with a wave of the terrible eyeglass; and when theyhad faced to the rear and retired in good order, closing the door behindthem, he regarded his delinquent daughter in wrathy and rubicund dismay. 

"What did you see in that laboratory?" he demanded. 

Sybilla began to count on her fingers. "As I walked around the room Inoticed jars, bottles, tubes, lamps, retorts, blowpipes, batteries----"

"Did you notice a small, shiny machine that somewhat resembles theinterior economy of a watch?"

"Yes, Pa-_pah_, but I haven't come to that yet----"

"Did you go near it?"

"Quite near----"

"You didn't touch it, did you?"

"I was going to tell you----"

"_Did_ you?" he bellowed musically. "Answer me, Sybilla!"

"Y-yes--I did. "

"What did you suppose it to be?"

"I thought--we all thought--that you kept a wireless telephone instrumentin there----"

"Why? Just because I happen to be president of the Amalgamated WirelessTrust Company?"

"Yes. And we were dying to see a wireless telephone work. .. . I thoughtI'd like to call up Central--just to be sure I could make the thing go--_What_ is the matter, Pa-_pah?_"

He dropped into a wadded armchair and motioned Sybilla to a seatopposite. Then with another frightful facial contortion he reimbedded themonocle. 

"So you deliberately opened that door and went in to rummage?"

"No, " said the girl; "we were--skylarking a little, on our way to thegymnasium; and I gave Brasilia a little shove toward the laboratory door, and then Flavilla pushed me--very gently--and somehow I--the door flewopen and my mask fell off and rolled inside; and I went in after it. Thatis how it happened--partly. "

She lifted her dark and very beautiful eyes to her stony parent, thenthey dropped, and she began tracing figures and arabesques on thepolished floor with the point of her foil. "That is partly how, " sherepeated. 

"What is the other part?"

"The other part was that, having unfortunately disobeyed you, and beingalready in the room, I thought I might as well stay and take a littlepeep around----"

Her father fairly bounced in his padded chair. The velvet-eyed descendantof Eve shot a fearful glance at him and continued, still casually tracinginvisible arabesques with her foil's point. 

"You see, don't you, " she said, "that being actually _in_, I thought Imight as well do something before I came out again, which would make mydisobedience worth the punishment. So I first picked up my mask, then Itook a scared peep around. There were only jars and bottles andthings. .. . I was dreadfully disappointed. The certainty of being punishedand then, after all, seeing nothing but bottles, _did_ seem ratherunfair. .. . So I--walked around to--to see if I could find something tolook at which would repay me for the punishment. .. . There is a proverb, isn't there Pa-_pah?_--something about being executed for a lamb----"

"Go on!" he said sharply. 

"Well, all I could find that looked as though I had no business to touchit was a little jeweled machine----"

"_That_ was it! Did you touch it?"

"Yes, several times. Was it a wireless?"

"Never mind! Yes, it's one kind of a wireless instrument. Go on!"

Sybilla shook her head:

"I'm sure I don't see why you are so disturbingly emphatic; because Ihaven't an idea how to send or receive a wireless message, and I hadn'tthe vaguest notion how that machine might work. I tried very hard to makeit go; I turned several screws and pushed all the push-buttons----"

Mr. Carr emitted a hollow, despairing sound--a sort of musical groan--andfeebly plucked at space. 

"I tried every lever, screw, and spring, " she went on calmly, "but themachine must have been out of order, for I only got one miserable littlespark----"

"You got a _spark?_"

"Yes--just a tiny, noiseless atom of white fire----"

Her father bounced to his feet and waved both hands at her distractedly. 

"Do you know what you've done?" he bellowed. 

"N-no----"

"Well, you've prepared yourself to fall in love! And you've probablyinduced some indescribable pup to fall in love with you! And _that's_what you've done!"

"In--_love!_"

"Yes, you have!"

"But how can a common wireless telephone----"

"It's another kind of a wireless. Your brother-in-law, William Destyn, invented it; I'm backing it and experimenting with it. I told you to keepout of that room. I hung up a sign on the door: _'Danger! Keep out!'_"

"W-was that thing loaded?"

"Yes, it _was_ loaded!"

"W-what with?"

"Waves!" shouted her father, furiously. "Psychic waves! You little ninny, we've just discovered that the world and everything in it is enveloped inpsychic waves, as well as invisible electric currents. The minute you gotnear that machine and opened the receiver, waves from your subconsciouspersonality flowed into it. And the minute you touched that spring andgot a spark, your psychic waves had signaled, by wireless, thesubconscious personality of some young man--some insufferable pup--who'llcome from wherever he is at present--from the world's end if need be--andfall in love with you. "

Mr. Carr jumped ponderously up and down in pure fury; his daughterregarded him in calm consternation. 

"I am so very, very sorry, " she said; "but I am quite certain that I amnot going to fall in love----"

"You can't help it, " roared her father, "if that instrument worked. "

"Is--is that what it's f-for?"

"That's what it's invented for; that's why I'm putting a million into it. Anybody on earth desiring to meet the person with whom they're destined, some time or other, to fall in love, can come to us, in confidence, buy aticket, and be hitched on to the proper psychic connection which insuresspeedy courtship and marriage--Damnation!"

"Pa-_pah!_"

"I can't help it! Any self-respecting, God-fearing father would swear! Doyou think I ever expected to have my daughters mixed up with thismachine? My daughters wooed, engaged and married by _machinery!_ Andyou're only eighteen; do you hear me? I won't have it! I'll certainly nothave it!"

"But, dear, I don't in the least intend to fall in love and marry ateighteen. And if--_he_--really--comes, I'll tell him very frankly that Icould not think of falling in love. I'll quietly explain that the machinewent off by mistake and that I am only eighteen; and that Flavilla andDrusilla and I are not to come out until next winter. That, " she addedinnocently, "ought to hold him. "

"The thing to do, " said her father, gazing fixedly at her, "is to keepyou in your room until you're twenty!"

"Oh, Pa-_pah!_"

Mr. Carr smote his florid brow. 

"You'll stay in for a week, anyway!" he thundered mellifluously. "Nomotoring party for you! That's your punishment. You'll be safe for today, anyhow; and by evening William Destyn will be back from Boston and I'llconsult him as to the safest way to keep you out of the path of thiswhippersnapper you have managed to wake up--evoke--stir out of space--wherever he may be--whoever he may be--whatever he chances to callhimself----"

"George, " she murmured involuntarily. 

"_What!!_"

She looked at her father, abashed, confused. 

"How absurd of me, " she said. "I don't know why I should have thought ofthat name, George; or why I should have said it out loud--that way--Ireally don't----"

"Who do you know named George?"

"N-nobody in particular that I can think of----"

"Sybilla! Be honest!"

"Really, I don't; I am always honest. "

He knew she was truthful, always; but he said:

"Then why the devil did you look--er--so, so moonily at me and call meGeorge?"

"I can't imagine--I can't understand----"

"Well, _I_ can! You don't realize it, but that cub's name must be George!I'll look out for the Georges. I'm glad I've been warned. I'll see thatno two-legged object named George enters this house! You'll never goanywhere where there's anybody named George if I can prevent it. "

"I--I don't want to, " she returned, almost ready to cry. "You are verycruel to me----"

"I wish to be. I desire to be a monster!" he retorted fiercely. "You'rean exceedingly bad, ungrateful, undutiful, disobedient and foolish child. Your sisters and I are going to motor to Westchester and lunch there withyour sister and your latest brother-in-law. And if they ask why youdidn't come I'll tell them that it's because you're undutiful, and thatyou are not to stir outdoors for a week, or see anybody who comes intothis house!"

"I--I suppose I d-deserve it, " she acquiesced tearfully. "I'm quite readyto be disciplined, and quite willing not to see anybody named George--ever! Besides, you have scared me d-dreadfully! I--I don't want to go outof the house. "

And when her father had retired with a bounce she remained alone in thegymnasium, eyes downcast, lips quivering. Later still, sitting inprecisely the same position, she heard the soft whir of the touring caroutside; then the click of the closing door. 

"There they go, " she said to herself, "and they'll have such a jollytime, and all those very agreeable Westchester young men will be there--particularly Mr. Montmorency. .. . I _did_ like him awfully; besides, hisname is Julian, so it is p-perfectly safe to like him--and I _did_ wantto see how Sacharissa looks after her bridal trip. "

Her lower lip trembled; she steadied it between her teeth, gazedmiserably at the floor, and beat a desolate tattoo on it with the tip ofher foil. 

"I am being well paid for my disobedience, " she whimpered. "Now I can'tgo out for a week; and it's April; and when I do go out I'll be soanxious all the while, peeping furtively at every man who passes andwondering whether his name might be George. .. . And it is going to behorridly awkward, too. .. . Fancy their bringing up some harmless dancingman named George to present to me next winter, and I, terrified, pickingup my débutante skirts and running. .. . I'll actually be obliged to fleefrom every man until I know his name isn't George. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!What an awful outlook for this summer when we open the house at OysterBay! What a terrible vista for next winter!"

She naïvely dabbed a tear from her long lashes with the back of hergauntlet. 

Her maid came, announcing luncheon, but she would have none of it, norany other offered office, including a bath and a house gown. 

"You go away somewhere, Bowles, " she said, "and please, don't come nearme, and don't let anybody come anywhere in my distant vicinity, because Iam v-very unhappy, Bowles, and deserve to be--and I--I desire to be alonewith c-conscience. "

"But, Miss Sybilla----"

"No, no, no! I don't even wish to hear your voice--or anybody's. I don'twish to hear a single human sound of any description. I--_what_ is thatscraping noise in the library?"

"A man, Miss Sybilla----"

"A _man!_ W-what's his name?"

"I don't know, miss. He's a workman--a paper hanger. "

"Oh!"

"Did you wish me to ask him to stop scraping, miss?"

Sybilla laughed: "No, thank you. " And she continued, amused at herselfafter her maid had withdrawn, strolling about the gymnasium, makingpasses with her foil at ring, bar, and punching bag. Her anxiety, too, was subsiding. The young have no very great capacity for continuedanxiety. Besides, the first healthy hint of incredulity was alreadycreeping in. And as she strolled about, swishing her foil, she musedaloud at her ease:

"What an extraordinary and horrid machine!. .. _How_ can it do suchexceedingly common things? And what a perfectly unpleasant way to fall inlove--by machinery!. .. I had rather not know who I am some day to--tolike--very much. .. . It is far more interesting to meet a man by accident, and never suspect you may ever come to care for him, than to buy aticket, walk over to a machine full of psychic waves and ring up somestrange man somewhere on earth. "

With a shudder of disdain she dropped on to a lounge and took her facebetween both hands. 

She was like her sisters, tall, prettily built, and articulated, with thesame narrow feet and hands--always graceful when lounging, no matter whatposition her slim limbs fell into. 

And now, in her fencing skirts of black and her black stockings, she wasexceedingly ornamental, with the severe lines of the plastron accentingthe white throat and chin, and the scarlet heart blazing over her ownlittle heart--unvexed by such details as love and lovers. Yes, unvexed;for she had about come to the conclusion that her father had frightenedher more than was necessary; that the instrument had not really done itsworst; in fact, that, although she had been very disobedient, she had hada rather narrow escape; and nothing more serious than paternaldispleasure was likely to be visited upon her. 

Which comforted her to an extent that brought a return of appetite; andshe rang for luncheon, and ate it with the healthy nonchalance usually socharacteristic of her and her sisters. 

"Now, " she reflected, "I'll have to wait an hour for my bath"--one of theinculcated principles of domestic hygiene. So, rising, she strolledacross the gymnasium, casting about for something interesting to do. 

She looked out of the back windows. In New York the view from backwindows is not imposing. 

Tiring of the inartistic prospect she sauntered out and downstairs to seewhat her maid might be about. Bowles was sewing; Sybilla looked on for awhile with languid interest, then, realizing that a long day ofpunishment was before her, that she deserved it, and that she ought toperform some act of penance, started contritely for the library withresolute intentions toward Henry James. 

As she entered she noticed that the bookshelves, reaching part way to theceiling, were shrouded in sheets. Also she encountered a pair ofsawhorses overlaid with boards, upon which were rolls of green flockpaper, several pairs of shears, a bucket of paste, a large, flat brush, aknife and a T-square. 

"The paper hanger man, " she said. "He's gone to lunch. I'll have time toseize on Henry James and flee. "

Now Henry James, like some other sacred conventions, was, in thatlibrary, a movable feast. Sometimes he stood neatly arranged on oneshelf, sometimes on another. There was no counting on Henry. 

Sybilla lifted the sheets from the face of one case and peered closer. Henry was not visible. She lifted the sheets from another case; no Henry;only G. P. R. , in six dozen rakish volumes. 

Sybilla peeped into a third case. Then a very unedifying thing occurred. Surely, surely, this was Sybilla's disobedient day. She saw a forbiddenbook glimmering in old, gilded leather--she saw its classic back turnedmockingly toward her--the whole allure of the volume was impudent, dog-eared, devil-may-care-who-reads-me. 

She took it out, replaced it, looked hard, hard for Henry, found him not, glanced sideways at the dog-eared one, took a step sideways. 

"I'll just see where it was printed, " she said to herself, drawing outthe book and backing off hastily--so hastily that she came into collisionwith the sawhorse table, and the paste splashed out of the bucket. 

But Sybilla paid no heed; she was examining the title page of old Dog-ear: a rather wonderful title page, printed in fascinating red and blackwith flourishes. 

"I'll just see whether--" And the smooth, white fingers hesitated; butshe had caught a glimpse of an ancient engraving on the next page--a veryquaint one, that held her fascinated. 

"I wonder----"

She turned the next page. The first paragraph of the famous classic begandeliciously. After a few moments she laughed, adding to herself: "I can'tsee what harm----"

There was no harm. Her father had meant another book; but Sybilla did notknow that. 

"I'll just glance through it to--to--be sure that I mustn't read it. "

She laid one hand on the paper hanger's table, vaulted up sideways, and, seated on the top, legs swinging, buried herself in the book, unconsciousthat the overturned paste was slowly fastening her to the spattered tabletop. 

An hour later, hearing steps on the landing, she sprang--that is, shewent through all the graceful motions of springing lightly to the floor. But she had not budged an inch. No Gorgon's head could have consigned herto immovability more hopeless. 

Restrained from freedom by she knew not what, she made one frantic anddemoralized effort--and sank back in terror at the ominous tearing sound. 

She was glued irrevocably to the table. 

[Illustration]

XIII

THE CROWN PRINCE

_Wherein the Green Mouse Squeaks_

A few minutes later the paper hanging young man entered, swinging anempty dinner pail and halted in polite surprise before a flushed younggirl in full fencing costume, who sat on his operating table, feetcrossed, convulsively hugging a book to the scarlet heart embroidered onher plastron. 

"I--hope you don't mind my sitting here, " she managed to say. "I wantedto watch the work. "

"By all means, " he said pleasantly. "Let me get you a chair----"

"No, thank you. I had rather sit th-this way. Please begin and don't mindif I watch you. "

The young man appeared to be perplexed. 

"I'm afraid, " he ventured, "that I may require that table for cuttingand----"

"Please--if you don't mind--begin to paste. I am in-intensely interestedin p-pasting--I like to w-watch p-paper p-pasted on a w-wall. "

Her small teeth chattered in spite of her; she strove to control hervoice--strove to collect her wits. 

He stood irresolute, rather astonished, too. 

"I'm sorry, " he said, "but----"

"_Please_ paste; won't you?" she asked. 

"Why, I've got to have that table to paste on----"

"Then d-don't think of pasting. D-do anything else; cut out some strips. I am so interested in watching p-paper hangers cut out things--"

"But I need the table for that, too----"

"No, you don't. You can't be a--a very skillful w-workman if you've gotto use your table for everything----"

[Illustration: "'I'm afraid', he ventured 'that I may require that tablefor cutting. '"]

He laughed. "You are quite right; I'm not a skillful paper hanger. "

"Then, " she said, "I am surprised that you came here to paper ourlibrary, and I think you had better go back to your shop and send acompetent man. "

He laughed again. The paper hanger's youthful face was curiouslyattractive when he laughed--and otherwise, more or less. 

He said: "I came to paper this library because Mr. Carr was in a hurry, and I was the only man in the shop. I didn't want to come. But they mademe. .. . I think they're rather afraid of Mr. Carr in the shop. .. . And thiswork _must_ be finished today. "

She did not know what to say; anything to keep him away from the tableuntil she could think clearly. 

"W-why didn't you want to come?" she asked, fighting for time. "You saidyou didn't want to come, didn't you?"

"Because, " he said, smiling, "I don't like to hang wall paper. "

"But if you are a paper hanger by trade----"

"I suppose you think me a real paper hanger?"

She was cautiously endeavoring to free one edge of her skirt; she noddedabsently, then subsided, crimsoning, as a faint tearing of cloth sounded. 

"Go on, " she said hurriedly; "the story of your career is _so_interesting. You say you adore paper hanging----"

"No, I don't, " he returned, chagrined. "I say I hate it. "

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Because my father thinks that every son of his who finishes collegeought to be disciplined by learning a trade before he enters aprofession. My oldest brother, De Courcy, learned to be a blacksmith; mynext brother, Algernon, ran a bakery; and since I left Harvard I've beenslapping sheets of paper on people's walls----"

"Harvard?" she repeated, bewildered. 

"Yes; I was 1907. "

"_You!_"

He looked down at his white overalls, smiling. 

"Does that astonish you, Miss Carr?--you are Miss Carr, I suppose----"

"Sybilla--yes--we're--we're triplets, " she stammered. 

"The beauti--the--the Carr triplets! And you are one of them?" heexclaimed, delighted. 

"Yes. " Still bewildered, she sat there, looking at him. Howextraordinary! How strange to find a Harvard man pasting paper! Diremisgivings flashed up within her. 

"Who are you?" she asked tremulously. "Would you mind telling me yourname. It--it isn't--_George!_"

He looked up in pleased surprise:

"So you know who I am?"

"N-no. But--it isn't George--is it?"

"Why, yes----"

"O-h!" she breathed. A sense of swimming faintness enveloped her: sheswayed; but an unmistakable ripping noise brought her suddenly toherself. 

"I am afraid you are tearing your skirt somehow, " he said anxiously. "Letme----"

"No!"

The desperation of the negative approached violence, and he involuntarilystepped back. 

For a moment they faced one another; the flush died out on her cheeks. 

"If, " she said, "your name actually is George, this--this is the most--the most terrible punishment--" She closed her eyes with her fingers asthough to shut out some monstrous vision. 

"What, " asked the amazed young man, "has my name to do with----"

Her hands dropped from her eyes; with horror she surveyed him, his paste-spattered overalls, his dingy white cap, his dinner pail. 

"I--I _won't_ marry you!" she stammered in white desperation. "I _won't!_If you're not a paper hanger you look like one! I don't care whetheryou're a Harvard man or not--whether you're playing at paper hanging ornot--whether your name is George or not--I won't marry you--I won't! I_won't!_"

With the feeling that his senses were rapidly evaporating the young mansat down dizzily, and passed a paste-spattered but well-shaped handacross his eyes. 

Sybilla set her lips and looked at him. 

"I don't suppose, " she said, "that you understand what I am talkingabout, but I've got to tell you at once; I can't stand this sort ofthing. "

"W-what sort of thing?" asked the young man, feebly. 

"Your being here in this house--with me----"

"I'll be very glad to go----"

"Wait! _That_ won't do any good! You'll come back!"

"N-no, I won't----"

"Yes, you will. Or I--I'll f-follow you----"

"What?"

"One or the other! We can't help it, I tell you. _You_ don't understand, but I do. And the moment I knew your name was George----"

"What the deuce has that got to do with anything?" he demanded, turningred in spite of his amazement. 

"Waves!" she said passionately, "psychic waves! I--somehow--knew thathe'd be named George----"

"Who'd be named George?"

"_He!_ The--man. .. And if I ever--if you ever expect me to--to c-care fora man all over overalls----"

"But I don't--Good Heavens!--I don't expect you to care for--foroveralls----"

"Then why do you wear them?" she asked in tremulous indignation. 

The young man, galvanized, sprang from his chair and began running about, taking little, short, distracted steps. "Either, " he said, "I need mentaltreatment immediately, or I'll wake up toward morning. .. . I--don't knowwhat you're trying to say to me. I came here to--to p-paste----"

"That machine sent you!" she said. "The minute I got a spark youstarted----"

"Do you think I'm a motor? Spark! Do you think I----"

"Yes, I do. You couldn't help it; I know it was my own fault, and this--_this_ is the dreadful punishment--g-glued to a t-table top--with a mannamed George----"

"What!!!"

"Yes, " she said passionately, "everything disobedient I have done hasbrought lightning retribution. I was forbidden to go into the laboratory;I disobeyed and--you came to hang wall paper! I--I took a b-book--which Ihad no business to take, and F-fate glues me to your horrid table andholds me fast till a man named George comes in. .. . "

Flushed, trembling, excited, she made a quick and dramatic gesture ofdespair; and a ripping sound rent the silence. 

"_Are you pasted to that table?_" faltered the young man, aghast. 

"Yes, I am. And it's utterly impossible for you to aid me in theslightest, except by pretending to ignore it. "

"But you--you can't remain there!"

"I can't help remaining here, " she said hotly, "until you go. "

"Then I'd better----"

"No! You shall _not_ go! I--I won't have you go away--disappear somewherein the city. Certainty is dreadful enough, but it's better than the awfulsuspense of knowing you are somewhere in the world, and are sure to comeback sometime----"

"But I don't want to come back!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Why should Iwish to come back? Have I said--acted--done--looked--_Why_ should youimagine that I have the slightest interest in anything or in--in--anybodyin this house?"

"Haven't you?"

"No!. .. And I cannot ignore your--your amazing--and intenselyf-flattering fear that I have d-designs--that I desire--in other words, that I--er--have dared to cherish impossible aspirations in connectionwith a futile and absurd hope that one day you might possibly be inducedto listen to any tentative suggestion of mine concerning a matrimonialalliance----"

He choked and turned a dull red. 

She reddened, too, but said calmly:

"Thank you for putting it so nicely. But it is no use. Sooner or lateryou and I will be obliged to consider a situation too hopeless to admitof discussion. "

"What situation?"

"Ours. "

"I can't see any situation--except your being glued--I _beg_ yourpardon!--but I must speak truthfully. "

"So must I. Our case is too desperate for anything but plain and terribletruths. And the truths are these: _I_ touched the forbidden machine andgot a spark; your name is George; _I'm_ glued here, unable to escape;_you_ are not rude enough to go when I ask you not to. .. . And now--here--in this room, you and I must face these facts and make up our minds. .. . For I simply _must_ know what I am to expect; I can't endure--I couldn'tlive with this hanging over me----"

"_What_ hanging over you?"

He sprang to his feet, waving his dinner pail around in frantic circles:

"What is it, in Heaven's name, that is hanging over you?"

"Over _you_, too!"

"Over me?"

"Certainly. Over us both. We are headed straight for m-marriage. "

"T-to _each other?_"

"Of course, " she said faintly. "Do you think I'd care whom you are goingto marry if it wasn't I? Do you think I'd discuss my own maritalintentions with you if you did not happen to be vitally concerned?"

"Do _you_ expect to marry _me?_" he gasped. 

"I--I don't _want_ to: but I've got to. "

He stood petrified for an instant, then with a wild look began to gatherup his tools. 

She watched him with the sickening certainty that if he got away shecould never survive the years of suspense until his inevitable return. Amad longing to get the worst over seized her. She knew the worst, knewwhat Fate held for her. And she desired to get it over--have the worsthappen--and be left to live out the shattered remains of her life insolitude and peace. 

"If--if we've got to marry, " she began unsteadily, "why not g-get it overquickly--and then I don't mind if you go away. "

She was quite mad: that was certain. He hastily flung some brushes intohis tool kit, then straightened up and gazed at her with deep compassion. 

"Would you mind, " she asked timidly, "getting somebody to come in andmarry us, and then the worst will be over, you see, and we need never, never see each other again. "

He muttered something soothing and began tying up some rolls of wallpaper. 

"Won't you do what I ask?" she said pitifully. "I-I am almost afraidthat--if you go away without marrying me I could not live and endurethe--the certainty of your return. "

He raised his head and surveyed her with deepest pity. Mad--quite mad!And so young--so exquisite. .. So perfectly charming in body! And the minddarkened forever. .. . How terrible! How strange, too; for in the pure-lidded eyes he seemed to see the soft light of reason not entirelyquenched. 

Their eyes encountered, lingered; and the beauty of her gaze seemed tostir him to the very wellspring of compassion. 

"Would it make you any happier to believe--to know, " he added hastily, "that you and I were married?"

"Y-yes, I think so. "

"Would you be quite happy to believe it?"

"Yes--if you call that happiness. "

"And you would not be unhappy if I never returned?"

"Oh, no, no! I--that would make me--comparatively--happy!"

"To be married to me, and to know you would never again see me?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"Yes, " he said soothingly. And yet a curious little throb of painflickered in his heart for a moment, that, mad as she undoubtedly was, she should be so happy to be rid of him forever. 

He came slowly across the room to the table on which she was sitting. Shedrew back instinctively, but an ominous ripping held her. 

"Are you going for a license and a--a clergyman?" she asked. 

"Oh, no, " he said gently, "that is not necessary. All we have to do is totake each other's hands--so----"

She shrank back. 

"You will have to let me take your hand, " he explained. 

She hesitated, looked at him fearfully, then, crimson, laid her slimfingers in his. 

The contact sent a quiver straight through him; he squared his shouldersand looked at her. .. . Very, very far away it seemed as though he heardhis heart awaking heavily. 

What an uncanny situation! Strange--strange--his standing here to humorthe mad whim of this stricken maid--this wonderfully sweet youngstranger, looking out of eyes so lovely that he almost believed the deadintelligence behind them was quickening into life again. 

"What must we do to be married?" she whispered. 

"Say so; that is all, " he answered gently. "Do you take me for yourhusband?"

"Yes. .. . Do you t-take me for your--wife?"

"Yes, dear----"

"Don't say _that_!. .. Is it--over?"

"All over, " he said, forcing a gayety that rang hollow in the pathos ofthe mockery and farce. .. . But he smiled to be kind to her; and, to makethe poor, clouded mind a little happier still, he took her hand again andsaid very gently:

"Will it surprise you to know that you are now a princess?"

"A--_what?_" she asked sharply. 

"A princess. " He smiled benignly on her, and, still beaming, struck a notungraceful attitude. 

"I, " he said, "am the Crown Prince of Rumtifoo. "

She stared at him without a word; gradually he lost countenance; a vaguemisgiving stirred within him that he had rather overdone the thing. 

"Of course, " he began cheerfully, "I am an exile in disguise--er--disinherited and all that, you know. "

She continued to stare at him. 

"Matters of state--er--revolution--and that sort of thing, " he mumbled, eying her; "but I thought it might gratify you to know that I am PrinceGeorge of Rumtifoo----"

"_What!_"

The silence was deadly. 

"Do you know, " she said deliberately, "that I believe you think I ammentally unsound. _Do_ you?"

"I--you--" he began to stutter fearfully. 

"_Do_ you?"

"W-well, either you or I----"

"Nonsense! I _thought_ that marriage ceremony was a miserably inadequateaffair!. .. And I am hurt--grieved--amazed that you should do such a--acowardly----"

"What!" he exclaimed, stung to the quick. 

"Yes, it is cowardly to deceive a woman. "

"I meant it kindly--supposing----"

"That I am mentally unsound? Why do you suppose that?"

"Because--Good Heavens--because in this century, and in this city, peoplewho never before saw one another don't begin to talk of marrying----"

"I explained to you"--she was half crying now, and her voice brokedeliciously--"I told you what I'd done, didn't I?"

"You said you had got a spark, " he admitted, utterly bewildered by hertears. "Don't cry--please don't. Something is all wrong here--there issome terrible misunderstanding. If you will only explain it to me----"

She dried her eyes mechanically: "Come here, " she said. "I don't believeI did explain it clearly. "

And, very carefully, very minutely, she began to tell him about thepsychic waves, and the instrument, and the new company formed to exploitit on a commercial basis. 

She told him what had happened that morning to her; how her disobediencehad cost her so much misery. She informed him about her father, and thatflorid and rotund gentleman's choleric character. 

"If you are here when I tell him I'm married, " she said, "he willprobably frighten you to death; and that's one of the reasons why I wishto get it over and get you safely away before he returns. As for me, nowthat I know the worst, I want to get the worst over and--and live out mylife quietly somewhere. .. . So now you see why I am in such a hurry, don'tyou?"

He nodded as though stunned, leaning there on the table, hands folded, head bent. 

"I am so very sorry--for you, " she said. "I know how you must feel aboutit. But if we are obliged to marry some time had we not better get itover and then--never--see--one another----"

He lifted his head, then stood upright. 

Her soft lips were mute, but the question still remained in her eyes. 

So, for a long while, they looked at each other; and the color under hischeekbones deepened, and the pink in her cheeks slowly became pinker. 

"Suppose, " he said, under his breath, "that I--wish--to return--to you?"

"_I_ do not wish it----"

"Try. "

"Try to--to wish for----"

"For my return. Try to wish that you also desire it. Will you?"

"If you are going to--to talk that way--" she stammered. 

"Yes, I am. "

"Then--then----"

"Is there any reason why I should not, if we are engaged?" he asked. "We_are_--engaged, are we not?"

"Engaged?"

"Yes. Are we?"

"I--yes--if you call it----"

"I do. .. . And we are to be--married?" He could scarcely now speak theword which but a few moments since he pronounced so easily; for a totallynew significance attached itself to every word he uttered. 

"Are we?" he repeated. 

"Yes. "

"Then--if I--if I find that I----"

"Don't say it, " she whispered. She had turned quite white. 

"Will you listen----"

"No. It--it isn't true--it cannot be. "

"It is coming truer every moment. .. . It is very, very true--even now. .. . It is almost true. .. . And now it has come true. Sybilla!"

White, dismayed, she gazed at him, her hands instinctively closing herears. But she dropped them as he stepped forward. 

"I love you, Sybilla. I wish to marry you. .. . Will you try to care forme--a little----"

"I couldn't--I can't even try----"

"Dear----"

He had her hands now; she twisted them free; he caught them again. Overtheir interlocked hands she bowed her head, breathless, cheeks aflame, seeking to cover her eyes. 

"Will you love me, Sybilla?"

She struggled silently, desperately. 

"_Will_ you?"

"No. .. . Let me go----"

"Don't cry--please, dear--" His head, bowed beside hers over theirclasped hands, was more than she could endure; but her upflung face, seeking escape, encountered his. There was a deep, indrawn breath, a sob, and she lay, crying her heart out, in his arms. 

 * * * * *

"Darling!"

"W-what?"

It is curious how quickly one recognizes unfamiliar forms of address. 

"You won't cry any more, will you?" he whispered. 

"N-n-o, " sighed Sybilla. 

"Because we _do_ love each other, don't we?"

"Y-yes, George. " Then, radiant, yet sweetly shamed, confident, yetfearful, she lifted her adorable head from his shoulder. 

"George, " she said, "I am beginning to think that I'd like to get offthis table. "

"You poor darling!"

"And, " she continued, "if you will go home and change your overalls forsomething more conventional, you shall come and dine with us thisevening, and I will be waiting for you in the drawing-room. .. . And, George, although some of your troubles are now over----"

"All of them, dearest!" he cried with enthusiasm. 

"No, " she said tenderly, "you are yet to meet Pa-_pah_. "

[Illustration]

XIV

GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS

_A Chapter Concerning Drusilla, Pa-pah and a Minion_

Capital had now been furnished for The Green Mouse, Limited; a greatcentral station of white marble was being built, facing Madison Avenueand occupying the entire block front between Eighty-second and Eighty-third streets. 

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ARE YOU IN LOVE? IF NOT, WHY NOT?

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There is only ONE mate created for YOU. You pay us; We find that ONE, thereby preventing mistakes, lawsuits, elopements, regrets, grouches, alimony. 

Divorce Absolutely Eliminated

By Our Infallible Wireless Method

Success Certain

It is now known the world over that Professor William Augustus Destyn hasdiscovered that the earth we live on is enveloped in Psychical Currents. By the Destyn-Carr instrument these currents may be tapped, controlledand used to communicate between two people of opposite sex whosesubconscious and psychic personalities are predestined to affinity andamorous accord. In other words, when psychic waves from any individualare collected or telegraphed along these wireless psychical currents, only that one affinity attuned to receive them can properly respond. 

_We catch your psychic waves for you. We send them out into the world. _

WATCH THAT SPARK!

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for $25. 

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President PROF. WM. AUGUSTUS DESTYN. Vice-Presidents THE HON. KILLIAN VAN K. VANDERDYNK. THE HON. GEORGE GRAY, 3D. Treasurer THE HON. BUSHWYCK CARR. 

These circulars were composed, illuminated and printed upon vellum bywhat was known as an "Art" community in West Borealis, N. J. Several tonswere expected for delivery early in June. 

Meanwhile, the Carr family and its affiliations had invested every centthey possessed in Green Mouse, Limited; and those who controlled thestock were Bushwyck Carr; William Augustus Destyn and Mrs. Destyn, néeEthelinda Carr; Mr. Killian Van K. Vanderdynk and Mrs. Vanderdynk, néeSacharissa Carr; George Gray and Mrs. Gray, very lately Sybilla Carr; andthe unmarried triplets, Flavilla and Drusilla Carr. 

Remembering with a shudder how Bell Telephone and Standard Oil might oncehave been bought for a song, Bushwyck Carr determined that in this casehis pudgy fingers should not miss the forelock of Time and the dividedskirts of Chance. 

Squinting at the viewless ether through his monocle he beheld millions init; so did William Augustus Destyn and the other sons-in-law. 

Only the unmarried triplets, Flavilla and Drusilla, remained amiablyindifferent in the midst of all these family financial scurryings andpreparations to secure world patents in a monopoly which promised thesocial regeneration of the globe. 

The considerable independent fortunes that their mother had left themthey invested in Green Mouse, at their father's suggestion; but furtherthan that they took no part in the affair. 

For a while the hurry and bustle and secret family conferences mildlyinterested them. Very soon, however, the talk of psychic waves andmillions bored them; and as soon as the villa at Oyster Bay was openedthey were glad enough to go. 

Here, at Oyster Bay, there was some chance of escaping their money-madand wave-intoxicated family; they could entertain and be entertained byboth of the younger sets in that dignified summer resort; they couldwander about their own vast estate alone; they could play tennis, sail, swim, ride, and drive their tandem. 

But best of all--for they were rather seriously inclined at the age ofeighteen, or, rather, on the verge of nineteen--they adored sketching, inwater colors, out of doors. 

Scrubby forelands set with cedars, shadow-flecked paths under the scruboak, meadows where water glimmered, white sails off Center Island andCooper's Bluff--Cooper's Bluff from the north, northeast, east, southeast, south--this they painted with never-tiring, Pecksniffianpatience, boxing the compass around it as enthusiastically as thatimmortal architect circumnavigated Salisbury Cathedral. 

And one delicious morning in early June, when the dew sparkled on thepoison ivy and the air was vibrant with the soft monotone of mosquitoesand the public road exhaled a delicate aroma of crude oil, Drusilla andFlavilla, laden with sketching-blocks, color-boxes, camp-stools, whiteumbrellas and bonbons, descended to the great hall, on sketching bent. 

Mr. Carr also stood there, just outside on the porch, red, explosive, determined legs planted wide apart, defying several courtly reporters, who for a month had patiently and politely appeared every hour to learnwhether Mr. Carr had anything to say about the new invention, rumors ofwhich were flying thick about Park Row. 

"No, I haven't!" he shouted in his mellow and sonorously musical bellow. "I have told you one hundred times that when I have anything to say I'llsend for you. Now, permit me to inform you, for the hundred and firstconsecutive time, that I have nothing to say--which won't prevent youfrom coming back in an hour and standing in exactly the same ridiculousposition you now occupy, and asking me exactly the same unmannerlyquestions, and taking the same impertinent snapshots at my house and myperson!"

He executed a ferocious facial contortion, clapped the monocle into hisleft eye, and squinted fiercely. 

"I'm getting tired of this!" he continued. "When I wake in the morningand look out of my window there are always anywhere from one to twentyreporters decorating my lawn! That young man over there is the worst andmost persistent offender!"--scowling at a good-looking youth in whiteflannels, who immediately blushed distressingly. "Yes, you are, youngman! I'm amazed that you have the decency to blush! Your insolent sheet, the Evening Star, refers to my Trust Company as a Green Mouse Trap and a_Mouse_leum. It also publishes preposterous pictures of myself andfamily. Dammit, sir, they even produce a photograph of Orlando, thefamily cat! You did it, I am told. Did you?"

"I am trying to do what I can for my paper, Mr. Carr, " said the youngman. "The public is interested. "

Mr. Carr regarded him with peculiar hatred. 

"Come here, " he said; "I _have_ got something to say to _you_. "

The young man cautiously left the ranks of his fellows and came up on theporch. Behind Mr. Carr, in the doorway, stood Drusilla and Flavilla. Theyoung man tried not to see them; he pretended not to. But he flusheddeeply. 

"I want to know, " demanded Mr. Carr, "why the devil you are always aroundhere blushing. You've been around here blushing for a month, and I wantto know why you do it. "

The youth stood speechless, features afire to the tips of his glowingears. 

"At first, " continued Mr. Carr, mercilessly, "I had a vague hope that youmight perhaps be blushing for shame at your profession; I heard that youwere young at it, and I was inclined to be sorry for you. But I'm notsorry any more!"

The young man remained crimson and dumb. 

"Confound it, " resumed Mr. Carr, "I want to know why the deuce you comeand blush all over my lawn. I won't stand it! I'll not allow anybody tocome blushing around me----"

Indignation choked him; he turned on his heel to enter the house andbeheld Flavilla and Drusilla regarding him, wide-eyed. 

He went in, waving them away before him. 

"I've taught that young pup a lesson, " he said with savage satisfaction. "I'll teach him to blush at me! I'll----"

"But why, " asked Drusilla, "are you so cruel to Mr. Yates? We like him. "

"Mr. --Mr. _Yates!_" repeated her father, astonished. "Is that his name?And who told _you?_"

"He did, " said Drusilla, innocently. 

"He--that infernal newspaper bantam----"

"Pa-_pah!_ Please don't say that about Mr. Yates. He is reallyexceedingly kind and civil to us. Every time you go to town on businesshe comes and sketches with us at----"

"Oh, " said Mr. Carr, with the calm of deadly fury, "so he goes toCooper's Bluff with you when I'm away, does he?"

Flavilla said: "He doesn't exactly go with us; but he usually comes thereto sketch. He makes sketches for his newspaper. "

"Does he?" asked her father, grinding his teeth. 

"Yes, " said Drusilla; "and he sketches so beautifully. He made suchperfectly charming drawings of Flavilla and of me, and he drew picturesof the house and gardens, and of all the servants, and"--she laughed--"Ionce caught a glimpse in his sketch-book of the funniest caricature ofyou----"

The expression on her father's face was so misleading in its terriblecalm that she laughed again, innocently. 

"It was not at all an offensive caricature, you know--really it was not acaricature at all--it was _you_--just the way you stand and look atpeople when you are--slightly--annoyed----"

"Oh, he is so clever, " chimed in Flavilla, "and is so perfectly well-bredand so delightful to us--to Drusilla particularly. He wrote the prettiestset of verses--To Drusilla in June--just dashed them off while he waswatching her sketch Cooper's Bluff from the southwest----"

"He is really quite wonderful, " added Drusilla, sincerely, "and sogenerous and helpful when my drawing becomes weak and wobbly----"

"Mr. Yates shows Drusilla how to hold her pencil, " said Flavilla, becoming warmly earnest in her appreciation of this self-sacrificingyoung man. "He often lays aside his own sketching and guides Drusilla'shand while she holds the pencil----"

"And when I'm tired, " said Drusilla, "and the water colors get into adreadful mess, Mr. Yates will drop his own work and come and talk to meabout art--and other things----"

"He is _so_ kind!" cried Flavilla in generous enthusiasm. 

"And _so_ vitally interesting, " said Drusilla. 

"And so talented!" echoed Flavilla. 

"And so--" Drusilla glanced up, beheld something in the fixed stare ofher parent that frightened her, and rose in confusion. "Have I said--done--anything?" she faltered. 

With an awful spasm Mr. Carr jerked his congested features into theghastly semblance of a smile. 

"Not at all, " he managed to say. "This is very interesting--what you tellme about this p-pu--this talented young man. Does he--does he seem--attracted toward you--unusually attracted?"

"Yes, " said Drusilla, smiling reminiscently. 

"How do you know?"

"Because he once said so. "

"S-said--w-what?"

"Why, he said quite frankly that he thought me the most delightful girlhe had ever met. "

"What--else?" Mr. Carr's voice was scarcely audible. 

"Nothing, " said Drusilla; "except that he said he cared for me very muchand wished to know whether I ever could care very much for him. .. . I toldhim I thought I could. Flavilla told him so, too. .. . And we all feltrather happy, I think; at least I did. "

Her parent emitted a low, melodious sort of sound, a kind of mellifluoushowl. 

"Pa-pah!" they exclaimed in gentle consternation. 

He beat at the empty air for a moment like a rotund fowl about to seekits roost. Suddenly he ran distractedly at an armchair and kicked it. 

They watched him in sorrowful amazement. 

"If we are going to sketch Cooper's Bluff this morning, " observedDrusilla to Flavilla, "I think we had better go--quietly--by way of thekitchen garden. Evidently Pa-pah does not care for Mr. Yates. "

Orlando, the family cat, strolled in, conciliatory tail hoisted. Mr. Carrhurled a cushion at Orlando, then beat madly upon his own head with bothhands. Servants respectfully gave him room; some furniture wasoverturned--a chair or two--as he bounced upward and locked and boltedhimself in his room. 

What transports of fury he lived through there nobody else can know; whatterrible visions of vengeance lit up his outraged intellect, what coldintervals of quivering hate, what stealthy schemes of reprisal, whatawful retribution for young Mr. Yates were hatched in those dreadfulmoments, he alone could tell. And as he never did tell, how can I know?

However, in about half an hour his expression of stony malignity changedto a smile so cunningly devilish that, as he caught sight of himself inthe mirror, his corrugated countenance really startled him. 

"I must smooth out--smooth out!" he muttered. "Smoothness does it!" Andhe rang for a servant and bade him seek out a certain Mr. Yates among thethrong of young men who had been taking snapshots. 

[Illustration]

XV

DRUSILLA

_During Which Chapter Mr. Carr Sings and One of His Daughters Takes herPostgraduate_

Mr. Yates came presently, ushered by Ferdinand, and looking extremelyworried. Mr. Carr received him in his private office with ominousurbanity. 

"Mr. Yates, " he said, forcing a distorted smile, "I have rather abruptlydecided to show you exactly how one of the Destyn-Carr instruments issupposed to work. Would you kindly stand here--close by this table?"

Mr. Yates, astounded, obeyed. 

"Now, " said Mr. Carr, with a deeply creased smile, "here is the famousDestyn-Carr apparatus. That's quite right--take a snapshot at it withoutmy permission----"

"I--I thought----"

"Quite right, my boy; I intend you shall know all about it. You see itresembles the works of a watch. .. . Now, when I touch this spring thereceiver opens and gathers in certain psychic waves which emanate fromthe subconscious personality of--well, let us say you, for example!. .. And now I touch this button. You see that slender hairspring of Rosiumuncurl and rise, trembling and waving about like a tentacle?"

Young Yates, notebook in hand, recovered himself sufficiently to nod. Mr. Carr leered at him:

"That tentacle, " he explained, "is now seeking some invisible, wireless, psychic current along which it is to transmit the accumulated psychicwaves. As soon as the wireless current finds the subconscious personalityof the woman you are destined to love and marry some day----"

"I?" exclaimed young Yates, horrified. 

"Yes, you. Why not? Do you mind my trying it on you?"

"But I am already in love, " protested the young man, turning, as usual, aready red. "I don't care to have you try it on me. Suppose that machineshould connect me with--some other--girl----"

"It has!" cried Carr with a hideous laugh as a point of bluish-white firetipped the tentacle for an instant. "You're tied fast to somethingfeminine! Probably a flossy typewriter--or a burlesque actress--somebodyyou're fitted for, anyway!" He clapped on his monocle, and glaredgleefully at the stupefied young man. 

"That will teach you to enter my premises and hold my daughter's handwhen she is drawing innocent pictures of Cooper's Bluff!" he shouted. "That will teach you to write poems to my eighteen-year-old daughter, Drusilla; that will teach you to tell her you are in love with her--youyoung pup!"

"I am in love with her!" said Yates, undaunted; but he was very whitewhen he said it. "I do love her; and if you had behaved halfway decentlyI'd have told you so two weeks ago!"

Mr. Carr turned a delicate purple, then, recovering, laughed horribly. 

"Whether or not you were once in love with my daughter is of noconsequence now. That machine has nullified your nonsense! Thatinstrument has found you your proper affinity--doubtless below stairs----"

"I _am_ still in love with Drusilla, " repeated Yates, firmly. 

"I tell you, you're not!" retorted Carr. "Didn't I turn that machine onyou? It has never missed yet! The Green Mouse has got _you_ in theMouseleum!"

"You are mistaken, " insisted Yates, still more firmly. "I was in lovewith your daughter Drusilla before you started the machine; and I loveher yet! Now! At the present time! This very instant I am loving her!"

"You can't!" shouted Carr. 

"Yes, I can. And I do!"

"No, you don't! I tell you it's a scientific and psychical impossibilityfor you to continue to love her! Your subconscious personality is now ineternal and irrevocable accord and communication with the subconsciouspersonality of some chit of a girl who is destined to love and marry you!And she's probably a ballet-girl, at that!"

"I shall marry Drusilla!" retorted the young man, very pale; "because Iam quite confident that she loves me, though very probably she doesn'tknow it yet. "

"You talk foolishness!" hissed Carr. "This machine has settled the wholematter! Didn't you see that spark?"

"I saw a spark--yes!"

"And do you mean to tell me you are not beginning to feel queer?"

"Not in the slightest. "

"Look me squarely in the eye, young man, and tell me whether you do nothave a sensation as though your heart were cutting capers?"

"Not in the least, " said Yates, calmly. "If that machine worked at all itwouldn't surprise me if you yourself had become entangled in it--caughtin your own machine!"

"W-what!" exclaimed Carr, faintly. 

"It wouldn't astonish me in the slightest, " repeated Yates, delighted todiscover the dawning alarm in the older man's features. "_You_ opened thereceiver; _you_ have psychic waves as well as I. _I_ was in love at thetime; _you_ were not. What was there to prevent your waves from beinghitched to a wireless current and, finally, signaling the subconsciouspersonality of--of some pretty actress, for example?"

Mr. Carr sank nervously onto a chair; his eyes, already wild, becamewilder as he began to realize the risk he had unthinkingly taken. 

"Perhaps _you_ feel a little--queer. You look it, " suggested the youngman, in a voice made anxious by an ever-ready sympathy. "Can I doanything? I am really very sorry to have spoken so. "

A damp chill gathered on the brow of Bushwyck Carr. He _did_ feel atrifle queer. A curious lightness--a perfectly inexplicable buoyancyseemed to possess him. He was beginning to feel strangely youthful; thesound of his own heart suddenly became apparent. To his alarm it wasbeating playfully, skittishly. No--it was not even beating; it wasskipping. 

"Y-Yates, " he stammered, "you don't think that I could p-possibly havebecome inadvertently mixed up with that horrible machine--do you?"

Now Yates was a generous youth; resentment at the treatment meted out tohim by this florid, bad-tempered and pompous gentleman changed toinstinctive sympathy when he suddenly realized the plight his futurefather-in-law might now be in. 

"Yates, " repeated Mr. Carr in an agitated voice, "tell me honestly: _do_you think there is anything unusual the matter with me? I--I seem tof-feel unusually--young. Do I look it? Have I changed? W-watch me whileI walk across the room. "

Mr. Carr arose with a frightened glance at Yates, put on his hat, andfairly pranced across the room. "Great Heavens!" he faltered; "my hat'son one side and my walk is distinctly jaunty! Do you notice it, Yates?"

"I'm afraid I do, Mr. Carr. "

"This--this is infamous!" gasped Mr. Carr. "This is--is outrageous! I'mforty-five! I'm a widower! I detest a jaunty widower! I don't want to beone; I don't want to----"

Yates gazed at him with deep concern. 

"Can't you help lifting your legs that way when you walk--as though aband were playing? Wait, I'll straighten your hat. Now try it again. "

Mr. Carr pranced back across the room. 

"I _know_ I'm doing it again, " he groaned, "but I can't help it! I--Ifeel so gay--dammit!--so frivolous--it's--it's that infernal machine. W-what am I to do, Yates, " he added piteously, "when the world looksso good to me?"

"Think of your family!" urged Yates. "Think of--of Drusilla. "

"Do you know, " observed Carr, twirling his eyeglass and twisting hismustache, "that I'm beginning not to care what my family think!. .. Isn'tit amazing, Yates? I--I seem to be somebody else, several years younger. Somewhere, " he added, with a flourish of his monocle--"somewhere on earththere is a little birdie waiting for me. "

"Don't talk that way!" exclaimed Yates, horrified. 

"Yes, I will, young man. I repeat, with optimism and emphasis, that_somewhere_ there is a birdie----"

"Mr. Carr!"

"Yes, merry old Top!"

"May I use your telephone?"

"I don't care what you do!" said Carr, gayly. "Use my telephone if youlike; pull it out by the roots and throw it over Cooper's Bluff, for allI care! But"--and a sudden glimmer of reason seemed to come over him--"ifyou have one grain of human decency left in you, you won't drag me and myterrible plight into that scurrilous New York paper of yours. "

"No, " said Yates, "I won't. And that ends my career on Park Row. I'mgoing to telephone my resignation. "

Mr. Carr gazed calmly around and twisted his mustache with a satisfiedand retrospective smile. 

"That's very decent of you, Yates; you must pardon me; I was naturallyhalf scared to death at first; but I realize you are acting veryhandsomely in this horrible dilemma----"

"Naturally, " interrupted Yates. "I must stand by the family into which Iam, as you know, destined to marry. "

"To be sure, " nodded Carr, absently; "it really looks that way, doesn'tit! And, Yates, you have no idea how I hated you an hour ago. "

"Yes, I have, " said Yates. 

"No, you really have not, if you will permit me to contradict you, merryold Top. I--but never mind now. You have behaved in an unusuallyconsiderate manner. Who the devil are you, anyway?"

Yates informed him modestly. 

"Well, why didn't you say so, instead of letting me bully you! I've knownyour father for twenty years. Why didn't you tell me you wanted to marryDrusilla, instead of coming and blushing all over the premises? I'd havetold you she was too young; and she is! I'd have told you to wait; andyou'd have waited. You'd have been civil enough to wait when I explainedto you that I've already lost, by marriage, two daughters through thataccursed machine. You wouldn't entirely denude me of daughters, wouldyou?"

"I only want one, " said John Yates, simply. 

"Well, all right; I'm a decent father-in-law when I've got to be. I'mreally a good sport. You may ask all my sons-in-law; they'll admit it. "He scrutinized the young man and found him decidedly agreeable to lookat, and at the same time a vague realization of his own predicamentreturned for a moment. 

"Yates, " he said unsteadily, "all I ask of you is to keep this terriblen-news from my innocent d-daughters until I can f-find out what sort of aperson is f-fated to lead me to the altar!"

Yates took the offered hand with genuine emotion. 

"Surely, " he said, "your unknown intended must be some charming leader inthe social activities of the great metropolis. "

"Who knows! She may be m-my own l-laundress for all I know. She may beanything, Yates! She--she might even be b-black!"

"Black!"

Mr. Carr nodded, shuddered, dashed the unmanly moisture from hiseyeglass. 

"I think I'd better go to town and tell my son-in-law, William Destyn, exactly what has happened to me, " he said. "And I think I'll go throughthe kitchen garden and take my power boat so that those devilishreporters can't follow me. Ferdinand!" to the man at the door, "ring upthe garage and order the blue motor, and tell those newspaper men I'mgoing to town. That, I think, will glue them to the lawn for a while. "

"About--Drusilla, sir?" ventured Yates; but Mr. Carr was already gone, speeding noiselessly out the back way, through the kitchen garden, andacross the great tree-shaded lawn which led down to the boat landing. 

Across the distant hedge, from the beautiful grounds of his next-doorneighbor, floated sounds of mirth and music. Gay flags fluttered amongthe trees. The Magnelius Grandcourts were evidently preparing for thebrilliant charity bazaar to be held there that afternoon and evening. 

"To think, " muttered Carr, "that only an hour ago I was agreeably andcomfortably prepared to pass the entire afternoon there with mydaughters, amid innocent revelry. And now I'm in flight--pursued byfuries of my own invoking--threatened with love in its most hideous form--matrimony! Any woman I now look upon may be my intended bride for all Iknow, " he continued, turning into the semiprivate driveway, borderedheavily by lilacs; "and the curious thing about it is that I really don'tcare; in fact, the excitement is mildly pleasing. "

He halted; in the driveway, blocking it, stood a red motor car--a littlerunabout affair; and at the steering-wheel sat a woman--a lady's maid byher cap and narrow apron, and an exceedingly pretty one, at that. 

When she saw Mr. Carr she looked up, showing an edge of white teeth inthe most unembarrassed of smiles. She certainly was an unusuallyagreeable-looking girl. 

"Has something gone wrong with your motor?" inquired Mr. Carr, pleasantly. 

"I am afraid so. " She didn't say "sir"; probably because she was toopretty to bother about such incidentals. And she looked at Carr andsmiled, as though he were particularly ornamental. 

"Let me see, " began Mr. Carr, laying his hand on the steering-wheel;"perhaps I can make it go. "

"It won't go, " she said, a trifle despondently and shaking her charminghead. "I've been here nearly half an hour waiting for it to do something;but it won't. "

Mr. Carr peered wisely into the acetylenes, looked carefully under thehood, examined the upholstery. He didn't know anything about motors. 

"I'm afraid, " he said sadly, "that there's something wrong with themagne-e-to!"

"Do you think it is as bad as that?"

"I fear so, " he said gravely. "If I were you I'd get out--and keep wellaway from that machine. "

"Why?" she asked nervously, stepping to the grass beside him. 

"It _might_ blow up. "

They backed away rather hastily, side by side. After a while they backedfarther away, hand in hand. 

"I--I hate to leave it there all alone, " said the maid, when they hadbacked completely out of sight of the car. "If there was only some safeplace where I could watch and see if it is going to explode. "

They ventured back a little way and peeped at the motor. 

"You could take a rowboat and watch it from the water, " said Mr. Carr. 

"But I don't know how to row. "

Mr. Carr looked at her. Certainly she was the most prepossessing specimenof wholesome, rose-cheeked and ivory-skinned womanhood that he had everbeheld; a trifle nearer thirty-five than twenty-five, he thought, but sosweet and fresh and with such charming eyes and manners. 

"I have, " said Mr. Carr, "several hours at my disposal before I go totown on important business. If you like I will row you out in one of myboats, and then, from a safe distance, we can sit and watch your motorblow up. Shall we?"

"It is most kind of you----"

"Not at all. It would be most kind of you. "

She looked sideways at the motor, sideways at the water, sideways at Mr. Carr. 

It was a very lovely morning in early June. 

As Mr. Carr handed her into the rowboat with ceremony she swept him acourtesy. Her apron and manners were charmingly incongruous. 

When she was gracefully seated in the stern Mr. Carr turned for a moment, stared all Oyster Bay calmly in the face through his monocle, then, untying the painter, fairly skipped into the boat with a step distinctlyfrolicsome. 

"It's curious how I feel about this, " he observed, digging both oars intothe water. 

"_How_ do you feel, Mr. Carr?"

"Like a bird, " he said softly. 

And the boat moved off gently through the sparkling waters of Oyster Bay. 

At that same moment, also, the sparkling waters of Oyster Bay were gentlycaressing the classic contours of Cooper's Bluff, and upon thatmonumental headland, seated under sketching umbrellas, Flavilla andDrusilla worked, in a puddle of water colors; and John Chillingham Yates, in becoming white flannels and lilac tie and hosiery, lay on the sod andlooked at Drusilla. 

Silence, delicately accented by the faint harmony of mosquitoes, broodedover Cooper's Bluff. 

"There's no use, " said Drusilla at last; "one can draw a landscape fromevery point of view except looking _down_ hill. Mr. Yates, how on eartham I to sit here and make a drawing looking down hill?"

"Perhaps, " he said, "I had better hold your pencil again. Shall I?"

"Do you think that would help?"

"I think it helps--somehow. "

Her pretty, narrow hand held the pencil; his sun-browned hand closed overit. She looked at the pad on her knees. 

After a while she said: "I think, perhaps, we had better draw. Don'tyou?"

They made a few hen-tracks. Noticing his shoulder was just touching hers, and feeling a trifle weary on her camp-stool, she leaned back a little. 

"It is very pleasant to have you here, " she said dreamily. 

"It is very heavenly to be here, " he said. 

"How generous you are to give us so much of your time!" murmuredDrusilla. 

"I think so, too, " said Flavilla, washing a badger brush. "And I ambecoming almost as fond of you as Drusilla is. "

"Don't you like him as well as I do?" asked Drusilla. 

Flavilla turned on her camp-stool and inspected them both. 

"Not quite as well, " she said frankly. "You know, Drusilla, you are verynearly in love with him. " And she resumed her sketching. 

Drusilla gazed at the purple horizon unembarrassed. "Am I?" she saidabsently. 

[Illustration: "Perhaps, ' he said, 'I had better hold your pencilagain'"]

"Are you?" he repeated, close to her shoulder. 

She turned and looked into his sun-tanned face curiously. 

"What is it--to love? Is it"--she looked at him undisturbed--"is it to bequite happy and lazy with a man like you?"

He was silent. 

"I thought, " she continued, "that there would be some hesitation, someshyness about it--some embarrassment. But there, has been none betweenyou and me. "

He said nothing. 

She went on absently:

"You said, the other day, very simply, that you cared a great deal forme; and I was not very much surprised. And I said that I cared very muchfor you. .. . And, by the way, I meant to ask you yesterday; are weengaged?"

"Are we?" he asked. 

"Yes--if you wish. .. . Is _that_ all there is to an engagement?"

"There's a ring, " observed Flavilla, dabbing on too much ultramarine andusing a sponge. "You've got to get her one, Mr. Yates. "

Drusilla looked at the man beside her and smiled. 

"How simple it is, after all!" she said. "I have read in the books Pa-pahpermits us to read such odd things about love and lovers. .. . Are welovers, Mr. Yates? But, of course, we must be, I fancy. "

"Yes, " he said. 

"Some time or other, when it is convenient, " observed Flavilla, "youought to kiss each other occasionally. "

"That doesn't come until I'm a bride, does it?" asked Drusilla. 

"I believe it's a matter of taste, " said Flavilla, rising and naivelystretching her long, pretty limbs. 

She stood a moment on the edge of the bluff, looking down. 

"How curious!" she said after a moment. "There is Pa-pah on the waterrowing somebody's maid about. "

"What!" exclaimed Yates, springing to his feet. 

"How extraordinary, " said Drusilla, following him to the edge of thebluff; "and they're singing, too, as they row!"

From far below, wafted across the sparkling waters of Oyster Bay, Mr. Carr's rich and mellifluous voice was wafted shoreward:

"_I der-reamt that I dwelt in ma-arble h-a-l-ls. _"

The sunlight fell on the maid's coquettish cap and apron, and sparkledupon the buckle of one dainty shoe. It also glittered across the monocleof Mr. Carr. 

"Pa-_pah!_" cried Flavilla. 

Far away her parent waved a careless greeting to his offspring, thenresumed his oars and his song. 

"How extraordinary!" said Flavilla. "Why do you suppose that Pa-_pah_ isrowing somebody's maid around the bay, and singing that way to her?"

"Perhaps it's one of our maids, " said Drusilla; "but that would be ratherodd, too, wouldn't it, Mr. Yates?"

"A--little, " he admitted. And his heart sank. 

Flavilla had started down the sandy face of the bluff. 

"I'm going to see whose maid it is, " she called back. 

Drusilla seated herself in the sun-dried grass and watched her sister. 

Yates stood beside her in bitter dejection. 

So _this_ was the result! His unfortunate future father-in-law was donefor. What a diabolical machine! What a terrible, swift, relentless answerhad been returned when, out of space, this misguided gentleman had, bymistake, summoned his own affinity! And _what_ an affinity! A saucysoubrette who might easily have just stepped from the _coulisse_ of aParisian theater!

Yates looked at Drusilla. What an awful blow was impending! She nevercould have suspected it, but there, in that boat, sat her futurestepmother in cap and apron!--his own future stepmother-in-law!

And in the misery of that moment's realization John Chillingham Yatesshowed the material of which he was constructed. 

"Dear, " he said gently. 

"Do you mean me?" asked Drusilla, looking up in frank surprise. 

And at the same time she saw on his face a look which she had neverbefore encountered there. It was the shadow of trouble; and it drew herto her feet instinctively. 

"What is it, Jack?" she asked. 

She had never before called him anything but Mr. Yates. 

"What is it?" she repeated, turning away beside him along the leafy path;and with every word another year seemed, somehow, to be added to heryouth. "Has anything happened, Jack? Are you unhappy--or ill?"

He did not speak; she walked beside him, regarding him with wistful eyes. 

So there was more of love than happiness, after all; she began to halfunderstand it in a vague way as she watched his somber face. Therecertainly was more of love than a mere lazy happiness; there wassolicitude and warm concern, and desire to comfort, to protect. 

"Jack, " she said tremulously. 

He turned and took her unresisting hands. A quick thrill shot throughher. Yes, there _was_ more to love than she had expected. 

"Are you unhappy?" she asked. "Tell me. I can't bear to see you this way. I--I never did--before. "

"Will you love me; Drusilla?"

"Yes--yes, I will, Jack. "

"Dearly?"

"I do--dearly. " The first blush that ever tinted her cheek spread anddeepened. 

"Will you marry me, Drusilla?"

"Yes. .. . You frighten me. "

She trembled, suddenly, in his arms. Surely there were more things tolove than she had dreamed of in her philosophy. She looked up as he bentnearer, understanding that she was to be kissed, awaiting the event whichsuddenly loomed up freighted with terrific significance. 

There was a silence, a sob. 

"Jack--darling--I--I love you so!"

Flavilla was sketching on her camp-stool when they returned. 

"I'm horridly hungry, " she said. "It's luncheon time, isn't it? And, bythe way, it's all right about that maid. She was on her way to serve inthe tea pavilion at Mrs. Magnelius Grandcourt's bazaar, and her runaboutbroke down and nearly blew up. "

"What on earth are you talking about?" exclaimed Drusilla. 

"I'm talking about Mrs. Magnelius Grandcourt's younger sister fromPhiladelphia, who looks perfectly sweet as a lady's maid. Tea, " sheadded, "is to be a dollar a cup, and three if you take sugar. And, " shecontinued, "if you and I are to sell flowers there this afternoon we'dbetter go home and dress. .. . _What_ are you smiling at, Mr. Yates?"

Drusilla naturally supposed she could answer that question. 

"Dearest little sister, " she said shyly and tenderly, "we have somethingvery wonderful to tell you. "

"What is it?" asked Flavilla. 

"We--we are--engaged, " whispered Drusilla, radiant. 

"Why, I knew that already!" said Flavilla. 

"Did you?" sighed her sister, turning to look at her tall, young lover. "I didn't. .. . Being in love is a much more complicated matter than youand I imagined, Flavilla. Is it not, Jack?"

[Illustration]

XVI

FLAVILLA

_Containing a Parable Told with Such Metaphorical Skill that the AuthorIs Totally Unable to Understand It_

The Green Mouse now dominated the country; the entire United States wasoccupied in getting married. In the great main office on Madison Avenue, and in a thousand branch offices all over the Union, Destyn-Carr machineswere working furiously; a love-mad nation was illuminated by theirsparks. 

Marriage-license bureaus had been almost put out of business by thesudden matrimonial rush; clergymen became exhausted, wedding bells in thechurches were worn thin, California and Florida reported no orange crops, as all the blossoms had been required for brides; there was a shortage ofsolitaires, traveling clocks, asparagus tongs; and the corner in riceperpetrated by some conscienceless captain of industry produced a panicequaled only by a more terrible _coup_ in slightly worn shoes. 

All America was rushing to get married; from Seattle to Key West therailroads were blocked with bridal parties; a vast hum of merrymakingresounded from the Golden Gate to Governor's Island, from Niagara to theGulf of Mexico. In New York City the din was persistent; all day longchurch bells pealed, all day long the rattle of smart carriages and hiredhacks echoed over the asphalt. A reporter of the _Tribune_ stood on topof the New York Life tower for an entire week, devouring cold-slawsandwiches and Marie Corelli, and during that period, as his affidavitruns, "never for one consecutive second were his ample ears free from thenear or distant strains of the Wedding March. "

And over all, in approving benediction, brooded the wide smile of thegreatest of statesmen and the great smile of the widest of statesmen--these two, metaphorically, hand in hand, floated high above their people, scattering encouraging blessings on every bride. 

A tremendous rise in values set in; the newly married required homes;architects were rushed to death; builders, real-estate operators, brokers, could not handle the business hurled at them by impatientbridegrooms. 

Then, seizing time by the fetlock, some indescribable monster secured thenext ten years' output of go-carts. The sins of Standard Oil wereforgotten in the menace of such a national catastrophe; mothers' meetingswere held; the excitement became stupendous; a hundred thousand bridesinvaded the Attorney-General's office, but all he could think of to saywas: "Thirty centuries look down upon you!"

These vague sentiments perplexed the country. People understood that theGovernment meant well, but they also realized that the time was not faroff when millions of go-carts would be required in the United States. Andthey no longer hesitated. 

All over the Union fairs and bazaars were held to collect funds for agreat national factory to turn out carts. Alarmed, the Trust tried tounload; militant womanhood, thoroughly aroused, scorned compromise. Inevery city, town, and hamlet of the nation entertainments were given, money collected for the great popular go-cart factory. 

The affair planned for Oyster Bay was to be particularly brilliant--awater carnival at Center Island with tableaux, fireworks, andilluminations of all sorts. 

Reassured by the magnificent attitude of America's womanhood, businessdiscounted the collapse of the go-cart trust and began to recover fromthe check very quickly. Stocks advanced, fluctuated, and suddenly whizzedupward like skyrockets; and the long-expected wave of prosperityinundated the country. On the crest of it rode Cupid, bow and arrowsdiscarded, holding aloft in his right hand a Destyn-Carr machine. 

For the old order of things had passed away; the old-fashioned doubts andfears of courtship were now practically superfluous. 

Anybody on earth could now buy a ticket and be perfectly certain thatwhoever he or she might chance to marry would be the right one--the oneintended by destiny. 

Yet, strange as it may appear, there still remained, here and there, afew young people in the United States who had no desire to be safelyprovided for by a Destyn-Carr machine. 

Whether there was in them some sporting instinct, making hazardattractive, or, perhaps, a conviction that Fate is kind, need not bediscussed. The fact remains that there were a very few youthful andmarriageable folk who had no desire to know beforehand what their fatemight be. 

One of these unregenerate reactionists was Flavilla. To see her entirefamily married by machinery was enough for her; to witness suchconsummate and collective happiness became slightly cloying. Perfectioncan be overdone; a rift in a lute relieves melodious monotony, and whendiscords cease to amuse, one can always have the instrument mended or buya banjo. 

"What I desire, " she said, ignoring the remonstrances of the family, "isa chance to make mistakes. Three or four nice men have thought they werein love with me, and I wouldn't take anything for the--experience. Or, "she added innocently, "for the chances that some day three or four moreagreeable young men may think they are in love with me. One learns bymaking mistakes--very pleasantly. "

Her family sat in an affectionately earnest row and adjured her--fourmarried sisters, four blissful brothers-in-law, her attractivestepmother, her father. She shook her pretty head and continued sewing onthe costume she was to wear at the Oyster Bay Venetian Fête and Go-cartFair. 

"No, " she said, threading her needle and deftly sewing a shining, silveryscale onto the mermaid's dress lying across her knees, "I'll take mychances with men. It's better fun to love a man not intended for me, andmake him love me, and live happily and defiantly ever after, than to havea horrid old machine settle you for life. "

"But you are wasting time, dear, " explained her stepmother gently. 

"Oh, no, I'm not. I've been engaged three times and I've enjoyed itimmensely. That isn't wasting time, is it? And it's _such_ fun!He thinks he's in love and you think you're in love, and you have such anagreeable time together until you find out that you're spoons on somebodyelse. And then you find out you're mistaken and you say you always wanthim for a friend, and you presently begin all over again with a perfectlynew man----"

"Flavilla!"

"Yes, Pa-_pah_. "

"Are you utterly demoralized!"

"Demoralized? Why? Everybody behaved as I do before you and Williaminvented your horrid machine. Everybody in the world married at hazard, after being engaged to various interesting young men. And I'm notdemoralized; I'm only old-fashioned enough to take chances. Please letme. "

The family regarded her sadly. In their amalgamated happiness theydeplored her reluctance to enter where perfect bliss was guaranteed. 

Her choice of rôle and costume for the Seawanhaka Club water tableauxthey also disapproved of; for she had chosen to represent a character nowsuperfluous and out of date--the Lorelei who lured Teutonic yachtsmen todestruction with her singing some centuries ago. And that, in thesetimes, was ridiculous, because, fortified by a visit to the nearestDestyn-Carr machine, no weak-minded young sailorman would care what aLorelei might do; and she could sing her pretty head off and comb herselfbald before any Destyn-Carr inoculated mariner would be lured overboard. 

But Flavilla obstinately insisted on her scaled and fish-tailed costume. When her turn came, a spot-light on the clubhouse was to illuminate thefloat and reveal her, combing her golden hair with a golden comb andsinging away like the Musical Arts. 

"And, " she thought secretly, "if there remains upon this machine-madeearth one young man worth my kind consideration, it wouldn't surprise mevery much if he took a header off the Yacht Club wharf and requested meto be his. And I'd be very likely to listen to his suggestion. "

So in secret hopes of this pleasing episode--but not giving any suchreason to her protesting family--she vigorously resisted all attempts todeprive her of her fish scales, golden comb, and rôle in the coming waterfête. And now the programmes were printed and it was too late for them tointervene. 

She rose, holding out the glittering, finny garment, which flashed like acollapsed fish in the sunshine. 

"It's finished, " she said. "Now I'm going off somewhere by myself torehearse. "

"In the water?" asked her father uneasily. 

"Certainly. "

As Flavilla was a superb swimmer nobody could object. Later, a maid wentdown to the landing, stowed away luncheon, water-bottles and costume inthe canoe. Later, Flavilla herself came down to the water's edge, hatless, sleeves rolled up, balancing a paddle across her shoulders. 

As the paddle flashed and the canoe danced away over the sparkling watersof Oyster Bay, Flavilla hummed the threadbare German song which she wasto sing in her rôle of Lorelei, and headed toward Northport. 

"The thing to do, " she thought to herself, "is to find some nice, little, wooded inlet where I can safely change my costume and rehearse. I mustknow whether I can swim in this thing--and whether I can sing whileswimming about. It would be more effective, I think, than merely sittingon the float, and singing and combing my hair through all those verses. "

The canoe danced across the water, the paddle glittered, dipped, sweptastern, and flashed again. Flavilla was very, very happy for noparticular reason, which is the best sort of happiness on earth. 

There is a sandy neck of land which obstructs direct navigation betweenthe sacred waters of Oyster Bay and the profane floods which wash thegravelly shores of Northport. 

"I'll make a carry, " thought Flavilla, beaching her canoe. Then, lookingaround her at the lonely stretch of sand flanked by woods, she realizedat once that she need seek no farther for seclusion. 

First of all, she dragged the canoe into the woods, then rapidlyundressed and drew on the mermaid's scaly suit, which fitted her to thethroat as beautifully as her own skin. 

It was rather difficult for her to navigate on land, as her legs wereincased in a fish's tail, but, seizing her comb and mirror, she managedto wriggle down to the water's edge. 

A few sun-warmed rocks jutted up some little distance from shore; with afinal and vigorous wriggle Flavilla launched herself and struck out forthe rocks, holding comb and mirror in either hand. 

Fishtail and accessories impeded her, but she was the sort of swimmer whotook no account of such trifles; and after a while she drew herself upfrom the sea, and, breathless, glittering, iridescent, flopped down upona flat rock in the sunshine. From which she took a careful survey of thesurroundings. 

Certainly nobody could see her here. Nobody would interrupt her either, because the route of navigation lay far outside, to the north. All aroundwere woods; the place was almost landlocked, save where, far away throughthe estuary, a blue and hazy horizon glimmered in the general directionof New England. 

So, when she had recovered sufficient breath she let down the flashing, golden-brown hair, sat up on the rock, lifted her pretty nose skyward, and poured forth melody. 

As she sang the tiresome old Teutonic ballad she combed away vigorously, and every now and then surveyed her features in the mirror. 

 _Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten Dass ich so traurig bin----_

she sang happily, studying her gestures with care and cheerfully floppingher tail. 

She had a very lovely voice which had been expensively cultivated. One ortwo small birds listened attentively for a while, then started in to helpher out. 

On the veranda of his bungalow, not very far from Northport, stood ayoung man of pleasing aspect, knickerbockers, and unusually symmetricallegs. His hands reposed in his pockets, his eyes behind their eyeglasseswere fixed dreamily upon the skies. Somebody over beyond that screen ofwoods was singing very beautifully, and he liked it--at first. 

However, when the unseen singer had been singing the Lorelei for an hour, steadily, without intermission, an expression of surprise graduallydeveloped into uneasy astonishment upon his clean-cut and unusuallyattractive features. 

"That girl, whoever she is, can sing, all right, " he reflected, "but whyon earth does she dope out the same old thing?"

He looked at the strip of woods, but could see nothing of the singer. Helistened; she continued to sing the Lorelei. 

"It can't be a phonograph, " he reasoned. "No sane person could endure anhour of that fool song. No sane person would sing it for an hour, either. "

Disturbed, he picked up the marine glasses, slung them over his shoulder, walked up on the hill back of the bungalow, selected a promising tree, and climbed it. 

Astride a lofty limb the lord of Northport gazed earnestly across thefringe of woods. Something sparkled out there, something moved, glittering on a half-submerged rock. He adjusted the marine glasses andsquinted through them. 

"Great James!" he faltered, dropping them; and almost followed theglasses to destruction on the ground below. 

How he managed to get safely to earth he never knew. "Either I'm crazy, "he shouted aloud, "or there's a--a mermaid out there, and I'm going tofind out before they chase me to the funny house!"

There was a fat tub of a boat at his landing; he reached the shore in aseries of long, distracted leaps, sprang aboard, cast off, thrust bothoars deep into the water, and fairly hurled the boat forward, so that italternately skipped, wallowed, scuttered, and scrambled, like a henoverboard. 

"This is terrible, " he groaned. "If I _didn't_ see what I think I saw, I'll eat my hat; if I did see what I'm sure I saw, I'm madder than thehatter who made it!"

Nearer and nearer, heard by him distinctly above the frantic splashing ofhis oars, her Lorelei song sounded perilously sweet and clear. 

"Oh, bunch!" he moaned; "it's horribly like the real thing; and here Icome headlong, as they do in the story books----"

He caught a crab that landed him in a graceful parabola in the bow, wherehe lay biting at the air to recover his breath. Then his boat's noseplowed into the sandy neck of land; he clambered to his feet, jumped out, and ran headlong into the belt of trees which screened the singer. Speedand gait recalled the effortless grace of the kangaroo; when heencountered logs and gullies he rose grandly, sailing into space, landingwith a series of soft bounces, which presently brought him to the otherside of the woods. 

And there, what he beheld, what he heard, almost paralyzed him. Weak-kneed, he passed a trembling hand over his incredulous eyes; with thecourage of despair, he feebly pinched himself. Then for sixty sickeningseconds he closed his eyes and pressed both hands over his ears. But whenhe took his hands away and opened his terrified eyes, the exquisitelyseductive melody, wind blown from the water, thrilled him in every fiber;his wild gaze fell upon a distant, glittering shape--white-armed, golden-haired, fish-tailed, slender body glittering with silvery scales. 

The low rippling wash of the tide across the pebbly shore was in hisears; the salt wind was in his throat. He saw the sun flash on goldencomb and mirror, as her snowy fingers caressed the splendid masses of herhair; her song stole sweetly seaward as the wind veered. 

A terrible calm descended upon him. 

"This is interesting, " he said aloud. 

A sickening wave of terror swept him, but he straightened up, squaringhis shoulders. 

"I may as well face the fact, " he said, "that I, Henry Kingsbury, ofPebble Point, Northport, L. I. , and recently in my right mind, am now, this very moment, looking at a--a mermaid in Long Island Sound!"

He shuddered; but he was sheer pluck all through. Teeth might chatter, knees smite together, marrow turn cold; nothing on earth or Long Islandcould entirely stampede Henry Kingsbury, of Pebble Point. 

His clutch on his self-control in any real crisis never slipped; hismental steering-gear never gave way. Again his pallid lips moved inspeech:

"The--thing--to--do, " he said very slowly and deliberately, "is to swimout and--and touch it. If it dissolves into nothing I'll probably feelbetter----"

He began to remove coat, collar, and shoes, forcing himself to talkcalmly all the while. 

"The thing to do, " he went on dully, "is to swim over there and get alook at it. Of course, it isn't really there. As for drowning--it reallydoesn't matter. .. . In the midst of life we are in Long Island. .. . And, ifit _is_ there--I c-c-can c-capture it for the B-B-Bronx----"

Reason tottered; it revived, however, as he plunged into the s. W. [A] ofOyster Bay and struck out, silent as a sea otter for the shimmering shapeon the ruddy rocks. 

[Footnote A: Sparkling Waters or Sacred Waters. ]

Flavilla was rehearsing with all her might; her white throat swelled withthe music she poured forth to the sky and sea; her pretty fingers playedwith the folds of burnished hair; her gilded hand-mirror flashed, shegently beat time with her tail. 

So thoroughly, so earnestly, did she enter into the spirit of the sirenshe was representing that, at moments, she almost wished some fishermanmight come into view--just to see whether he'd really go overboard afterher. 

However, audacious as her vagrant thoughts might be, she was entirelyunprepared to see a human head, made sleek by sea water, emerge from thefloating weeds almost at her feet. 

"Goodness, " she said faintly, and attempted to rise. But her fish tailfettered her. 

"Are you real!" gasped Kingsbury. 

"Y-yes. .. . Are you?"

"Great James!" he half shouted, half sobbed, "are you _human?_"

"V-very. Are _you?_"

He clutched at the weedy rock and dragged himself up. For a moment he laybreathing fast, water dripping from his soaked clothing. Once he feeblytouched the glittering fish tail that lay on the rock beside him. Itquivered, but needle and thread had been at work there; he drew a deepbreath and closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again she was looking about for a likely place tolaunch herself into the bay; in fact, she had already started to glidetoward the water; the scraping of the scales aroused him, and he sat up. 

"I heard singing, " he said dreamily, "and I climbed a tree and saw--you!Do you blame me for trying to corroborate a thing like _you?_"

"You thought I was a _real_ one?"

"I thought that I thought I saw a real one. "

She looked at him hopefully. 

"Tell me, _did_ my singing compel you to swim out here?"

"I don't know what compelled me. "

"But--you _were_ compelled?"

"I--it seems so----"

"O-h!" Flushed, excited, laughing, she clasped her hands under her chinand gazed at him. 

"To think, " she said softly, "that you believed me to be a real siren, and that my beauty and my singing actually did lure you to my rock! Isn'tit exciting?"

He looked at her, then turned red:

"Yes, it is, " he said. 

Hands still clasped together tightly beneath her rounded chin, shesurveyed him with intense interest. He was at a disadvantage; the sleek, half-drowned appearance which a man has who emerges from a swim does notexhibit him at his best. 

But he had a deeper interest for Flavilla; her melody and loveliness hadactually lured him across the water to the peril of her rocks; this humanbeing, this man creature, seemed to be, in a sense, hers. 

"Please fix your hair, " she said, handing him her comb and mirror. 

"My hair?"

"Certainly. I want to look at you. "

He thought her request rather extraordinary, but he sat up and with theaid of the mirror, scraped away at his wet hair, parting it in the middleand combing it deftly into two gay little Mercury wings. Then, fishing inthe soaked pockets of his knickerbockers, he produced a pair of smartpince-nez, which he put on, and then gazed up at her. 

"Oh!" she said, with a quick, indrawn breath, "you _are_ attractive!"

At that he turned becomingly scarlet. 

Leaning on one lovely, bare arm, burnished hair clustering against hercheeks, she continued to survey him in delighted approval which sometimesmade him squirm inwardly, sometimes almost intoxicated him. 

"To think, " she murmured, "that _I_ lured _you_ out here!"

"I _am_ thinking about it, " he said. 

She laid her head on one side, inspecting him with frankest approval. 

"I wonder, " she said, "what your name is. I am Flavilla Carr. "

"Not one of the Carr triplets!"

"Yes--but, " she added quickly, "I'm not married. Are you?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" he said hastily. "I'm Henry Kingsbury, of Pebble Point, Northport----"

"Master and owner of the beautiful but uncertain _Sappho?_ Oh, tell me, _are_ you the man who has tipped over so many times in Long Island Sound?Because I--I adore a man who has the pluck to continue to capsize everyday or two. "

"Then, " he said, "you can safely adore me, for I am that yachtsman whohas fallen off the _Sappho_ more times than the White Knight fell off hishorse. "

"I--I _do_ adore you!" she exclaimed impulsively. 

"Of course, you d-d-don't mean that, " he stammered, striving to smile. 

"Yes--almost. Tell me, you--I know you are not like other men! _You_never have had anything to do with a Destyn-Carr machine, have you?"

"Never!"

"Neither have I. .. . And so you are not in love--are you?"

"No. "

"Neither am I. Oh, I am so glad that you and I have waited, and notbecome engaged to somebody by machinery. .. . I wonder whom you aredestined for. "

"Nobody--by machinery. "

She clapped her hands. "Neither am I. It is too stupid, isn't it? I_don't_ want to marry the man I ought to marry. I'd rather take chanceswith a man who attracts me and who is attracted by me. .. . There was, inthe old days--before everybody married by machinery--something notaltogether unworthy in being a siren, wasn't there?. .. It's perfectlydelightful to think of your seeing me out here on the rocks, and theninstantly plunging into the waves and tearing a foaming right of way towhat might have been destruction!"

Her flushed, excited face between its clustering curls looked straightinto his. 

"It _was_ destruction, " he said. His own voice sounded odd to him. "Utterdestruction to my peace of mind, " he said again. 

"You--don't think that you love me, do you?" she asked. "That would betoo--too perfect a climax. .. . _Do_ you?" she asked curiously. 

"I--think so. "

"Do--do you _know_ it?" He gazed bravely at her: "Yes. "

She flung up both arms joyously, then laughed aloud:

"Oh, the wonder of it! It is too perfect, too beautiful! You really loveme? Do you? Are you _sure_?"

"Yes. .. . Will you try to love me?"

"Well, you know that sirens don't care for people. .. . I've already beenengaged two or three times. .. . I don't mind being engaged to you. "

"Couldn't you care for me, Flavilla?"

"Why, yes. I do. .. . Please don't touch me; I'd rather not. Of course, youknow, I couldn't really love you so quickly unless I'd been subjected toone of those Destyn-Carr machines. You know that, don't you? But, " sheadded frankly, "I wouldn't like to have you get away from me. I--I feellike a tender-hearted person in the street who is followed by a lostcat----"

"What!"

"Oh, I _didn't_ mean anything unpleasant--truly I didn't. You know howtenderly one feels when a poor stray cat comes trotting after one----"

He got up, mad all through. 

"_Are_ you offended?" she asked sorrowfully. "When I didn't mean anythingexcept that my heart--which is rather impressionable--feels very warmlyand tenderly toward the man who swam after me. .. . Won't you understand, please? Listen, we have been engaged only a minute, and here already isour first quarrel. You can see for yourself what would happen if we evermarried. "

"It wouldn't be machine-made bliss, anyway, " he said. 

That seemed to interest her; she inspected him earnestly. 

"Also, " he added, "I thought you desired to take a sportsman's chances?"

"I--do. "

"And I thought you didn't want to marry the man you ought to marry. "

"That is--true. "

"Then you certainly ought not to marry me--but, will you?"

"How can I when I don't--love you. "

"You don't love me because you ought not to on such briefacquaintance. .. . But _will_ you love me, Flavilla?"

She looked at him in silence, sitting very still, the bright hair veilingher cheeks, the fish's tail curled up against her side. 

"_Will_ you?"

"I don't know, " she said faintly. 

"Try. "

"I--am. "

"Shall I help you?"

Evidently she had gazed at him long enough; her eyes fell; her whitefingers picked at the seaweed pods. His arm closed around her; nothingstirred but her heart. 

"Shall I help you to love me?" he breathed. 

"No--I am--past help. " She raised her head. 

"This is all so--so wrong, " she faltered, "that I think it must beright. .. . Do you truly love me?. .. Don't kiss me if you do. .. . Now Ibelieve you. .. . Lift me; I can't walk in this fish's tail. .. . Now set meafloat, please. "

He lifted her, walked to the water's edge, bent and placed her in thesea. In an instant she had darted from his arms out into the waves, flashing, turning like a silvery salmon. 

"Are you coming?" she called back to him. 

He did not stir. She swam in a circle and came up beside the rock. Aftera long, long silence, she lifted up both arms; he bent over. Then, veryslowly, she drew him down into the water. 

 * * * * *

"I am quite sure, " she said, as they sat together at luncheon on thesandspit which divides Northport Bay from the s. W. Of Oyster Bay, "thatyou and I are destined for much trouble when we marry; but I love you sodearly that I don't care. "

"Neither do I, " he said; "will you have another sandwich?"

And, being young and healthy, she took it, and biting into it, smiledadorably at her lover. 

[Illustration]

OTHER BOOKS BY

ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

It was Mr. Chambers himself who wrote of the caprices of the MysticThree--Fate, Chance, and Destiny--and how it frequently happened that ayoung man "tripped over the maliciously extended foot of Fate and fellplump into the open arms of Destiny. " Perhaps it was due to one of thepranks of the mystic sisters that Mr. Chambers himself should lay downhis brush and palette and take up the pen. Mr. Chambers studied art inParis for seven years. At twenty-four his paintings were accepted at theSalon; at twenty-eight he had returned to New York and was busy as anillustrator for _Life, Truth_, and other periodicals. But already thedesire to write was coursing through him. The Latin Quarter of Paris, where he had studied so long, seemed to haunt him; he wanted to tell itsstory. So he did write the story and, in 1893, published it under thetitle of "In the Quarter. " The same year he published another book, "TheKing in Yellow, " a grewsome tale, but remarkably successful. The easelwas pushed aside; the painter had become writer. 

Writing of Mr. Chambers's novel of last fall

THE DANGER MARK

in _The Bookman_, Dr. Frederic Taber Cooper said, "In this last field(the society novel) it would seem as though Mr. Chambers had, at length, found himself; and the fact that the last of the four books is the bestand most sustained and most honest piece of work he has yet done affordssolid ground for the belief that he has still better and maturer volumesyet to come. There is no valid reason why Mr. Chambers should notultimately be remembered as the novelist who left behind him acomprehensive human comedy of New York. "

This is another novel of society life like "The Fighting Chance" and "TheFiring Line. " The chief characters in the story are a boy and a girl, inheritors of a vast fortune, whose parents are dead, and who have beenleft in the guardianship of a large Trust Company. They are brought upwith no companions of their own age and are a unique pair when turnedout, on coming of age, into New York society--two children educated by agreat machine, possessors of fabulous wealth, with every inheritedinstinct for good and evil set free for the first time. The fact that thegirl has acquired the habit of dropping a little cologne on a lump ofsugar and nibbling it when tired or depressed gives an indication of thestruggle that the children have before them, a struggle of their own, inthe midst of their luxurious surroundings, more vital, more real, perhaps, than any that Mr. Chambers has yet depicted. It is a tense, powerful, highly dramatic story, handling a delicate subject withoutoffense to the taste or the judgment of the most critical reader. 

Mr. Chambers's third novel of society life is

THE FIRING LINE

Its scenes are laid principally at Palm Beach, and no more distinct yetdelicately tinted picture of an American fashionable resort, in the fullblossom of its brief, recurrent glory, has ever been drawn. In this book, Mr. Chambers's purpose is to show that the salvation of society lies inthe constant injection of new blood into its veins. His heroine, thecaptivating Shiela Cardross, of unknown parentage, yet reared in luxury, suddenly finds herself on life's firing line, battling with one of themost portentous problems a young girl ever had to face. Only a masterwriter could handle her story; Mr. Chambers does it most successfully. 

THE YOUNGER SET

is the second of Mr. Chambers's society novels. It takes the reader intothe swirling society life of fashionable New York, there to wrestle withthat ever-increasing evil, the divorce question. As a student of life, Mr. Chambers is thorough; he knows society; his pictures are so accuratethat he enables the reader to imbibe the same atmosphere as if he hadbeen born and brought up in it. Moreover, no matter how intricate theplot may be or how great the lesson to be taught, the romance in thestory is always foremost. For "The Younger Set, " Mr. Chambers hasprovided a hero with a rigid code of honor and the grit to stick to it, even though it be unfashionable and out of date. He is a man whomeveryone would seek to emulate. 

The earliest of Mr. Chambers's society novels is

THE FIGHTING CHANCE

It is the story of a young man who has inherited with his wealth acraving for liquor, and a girl who has inherited a certain rebelliousnessand a tendency toward dangerous caprice. The two, meeting on the brink ofruin, fight out their battles--two weaknesses joined with love to make astrength. 

It is sufficient to say of this novel that more than five million peoplehave read it. It has taken a permanent place among the best fiction ofthe period. 

SPECIAL MESSENGER

is the title of Mr. Chambers's novel just preceding "The Danger Mark. " Itis the romance of a young woman spy and scout in the Civil War. As aspecial messenger in the Union service, she is led into a maze ofcritical situations, but her coolness and bravery and winsome personalityalways carry her on to victory. The story is crowded with dramaticincident, the roar of battle, the grim realities of war; and, at times, in sharp contrast, comes the tenderest of romance. It is written with anunderstanding and sympathy for the viewpoint of the partisans on bothsides of the conflict. 

THE RECKONING

is a novel of the Revolutionary War. It is the fourth, chronologically, of a series of which "Cardigan" and "The Maid-at-Arms" were the firsttwo. The third has not yet been written. These novels of New York in theRevolutionary days are another striking example of the enthusiasm whichMr. Chambers puts into his work. To write an accurate and successfulhistorical novel, one must be a historian as well as a romancer. Mr. Chambers is an authority on New York State history during the Colonialperiod. And, if the hours spent in poring over old maps and reading upold records and journals do not show, the result is always apparent. Thefacts are not obtrusive, but they are there, interwoven in the gauzy woofof the artist's imagination. That is why these romances carry convictionalways, why we breathe the very air of the period as we read them. 

IOLE

Another splendid example of the author's versatility is this farcical, humorous satire on the _art nouveau_ of to-day, Mr. Chambers, with allhis knowledge of the artistic jargon, has in this little novel created apious fraud of a father, who brings up his eight lovely daughters in theAdirondacks, where they wear pink pajamas and eat nuts and fruit, andlisten to him while he lectures them and everybody else on art. It iseasy to imagine what happens when several rich and practical young NewYorkers stumble upon this group. Everybody is happy in the end. 

One might run on for twenty books more, but there is not space enoughmore than to mention "The Tracer of Lost Persons, " "The Tree of Heaven, ""Some Ladies in Haste, " and Mr. Chambers's delightful nature books forchildren, telling how _Geraldine_ and _Peter_ go wandering through"Outdoor-Land, " "Mountain-Land, " "Orchard-Land, " "River-Land, " "Forest-Land, " and "Garden-Land. " They, in turn, are as different from his novelsin fancy and conception as each of his novels from the other. 

Mr. Chambers is a born optimist. The labor of writing is a naturalenjoyment to him. In reading anything he has written, one is at onceimpressed with the ease with which it moves along. There is no strainingafter effects, no affectations, no hysteria; but always there is apersonality, an individuality that appeals to the best side of thereader's nature and somehow builds up a personal relation between him andthe author. Perhaps it is this consummate skill, this remarkable abilityto win the reader that has enabled Mr. Chambers to increase his audienceyear after year, until it now numbers millions; and it is only just thatcritics should, as they frequently do, proclaim him "the most popularwriter in the country. "