ks were all earthy-browns and oat-meal grays.

His first step was to buy a blacking brush and his next to press his
trousers under his mattress, with the result that, being detected and
diverted by Dennis, they appeared next morning with a cross-gartered
effect.

At nights, especially moonlight nights, under pretense of insomnia, he
drew his bed to the open window and gazed sentimentally into the
suddenly discovered starry system.

"What the deuce are you mooning about?" said the Tennessee Shad on the
first occasion.

"I'm studying astronomy," said Dink with dignity.

The Tennessee Shad gave a snort and soon went loudly off to sleep.

Dink, unmolested, soared away into his own domain. It is true that,
having read Peter Ibbetson, he tried for a week to emulate that
favored dreamer, throwing his arms up, clasping his hands behind his
head and being most particular in the crossing of the feet. He
dreamed, but only discouraging, tantalizing dreams, and the figure his
magic summoned up was not the angelic one, but invariably the elfish
eyes and star-pointing nose of Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan.

But the dreams that lay like shadows between the faltering eyelids and
the shut were real and magic. Then all the difficulties were swept
away, no cold chill ran up his back to stay the words that rushed to
his lips. Conversations to defy the novelist were spun out and, having
periodically saved her from a hundred malignant deaths, he continued
each night anew the heroic work of rescue with unsatiated delight. At
times, in the throbs of the sacred passion, he thought with a start of
his blackened past and the tendencies to crime within him.

"Lord!" he said with a gasp, thinking of the orgy in beer, "what would
have become of me--it's like an act of Providence. I wish I could let
her know what a--what a good influence she's been. I don't know what
I'd 'a' done--if I hadn't met her! I was in a dreadful way!"

By this time, having had the advantage of countless midnight walks,
not to mention the familiarizing effect of several scores of desperate
adventures, the character of Miss Lorna Doone McCarty had been
completely unfolded to the reverential Dink. He saw her, he conversed
with her, he knew her. She was a sort of heavenly being, misunderstood
by her family--especially her brother, who had not the slightest
comprehension. She was like Dante's Beatrice, as the pictures, not the
dreadful text, represent that lady--and o