ithmatic. I have to study my French, and my German, and my
music, and my--"

Her father groaned. "I've traveled it, too," he admitted.

She lifted her eyes then. And there, just across that wide road, was the
Barn!--looming up darkly, a great framework of steel girders, all bolted
together, and rusted in patches and streaks. Through these girders could
be seen small regular spots of light.

"Nobody _has_ to go round the Barn," she protested. "Anybody could just
go right in at one side and right out at the other."

"But the _road!_" said her father meaningly. "If ever one's feet touch
it--!"

She thought the road wonderful. It was river-wide, and full of gentle
undulations. Where it was smoothest, it reflected the Barn and all the
surrounding lights. Yet now (like the shining tin of a roof-top) it
resounded--to a foot-fall!

"Some one's coming!" announced the Piper.

_Buzz-z-z-z!_

It was a low, angry droning.

The next moment a figure came into sight at a corner of the Barn. It was
a slender, girlish figure, and it came hurrying forward along the
circular way with never a glance to right or left. Gwendolyn could see
that whoever the traveler was, her dress was plain and scant. Nor were
there ornaments shining in her pretty hair, which was unbound. She was
shod in dainty, high-heeled slippers. And now she walked as fast as she
could; again she broke into a run; but taking no note of the ruts and
rough places, continually stumbled.

"She's watching what's in her hand," said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.
"Contemplation, speculation, perlustration." And he sighed.

"She'll have a fine account to settle with me,"--this the Piper again.
He whipped out his note-book. "That's what _I_ call a merry dance."

"See what she's carrying," advised the Bird. In one hand the figure held
a small dark something.

Gwendolyn looked. "Why,--why," she began hesitatingly, "isn't it a
_bonnet?_"

A bonnet it was--a plain, cheap-looking piece of millinery.

_BUZZ-Z-Z-Z-Z!_

The drone grew loud. The figure caught the bonnet close to her face and
held it there, turning it about anxiously. Her eyes were eager. Her lips
wore a proud smile.

It was then that Gwendolyn recognized her. And leaned forward, holding
out her arms. "Moth-er!" she plead. "_Mother!_"

Her mother did not hear. Or, if she heard, did not so much as lift her
eyes from the bonnet. She tripped, regained her balance, and rushed
past, hair wind-tossed, dress flutte