that head on a cushion on a table--"

"Like John the Baptist," interrupted Euphemia.

"Well," said our ex-boarder, "the plan would have had its advantages."

"Oh!" cried Euphemia, looking out of a back window. "What a lovely
little iron balcony! Do you sit out there on warm evenings?"

"That's a fire-escape," said the ex-boarder. "We don't go out there
unless it is very hot indeed, on account of the house being on fire.
You see there is a little door in the floor of the balcony and an iron
ladder leading to the balcony beneath, and so on, down to the first
story."

"And you have to creep through that hole and go down that dreadful steep
ladder every time there is a fire?" said Euphemia.

"Well, I guess we would never go down but once," he answered.

"No, indeed," said Euphemia; "you'd fall down and break your neck the
first time," and she turned away from the window with a very grave
expression on her face.

Soon after this our hostess conducted Euphemia to the guest-chamber,
while her husband and I finished a bed-time cigar.

When I joined Euphemia in her room, she met me with a mysterious
expression on her face. She shut the door, and then said in a very
earnest tone:

"Do you see that little bedstead in the corner? I did not notice it
until I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I said,
'Why here's a child's bed; who sleeps here?' 'Oh,' says she, 'that's
our little Adele's bedstead. We have it in our room when she's here.'
'Little Adele!' said I, 'I didn't know she was little--not small enough
for that bed, at any rate.' 'Why, yes,' said she, 'Adele is only four
years old. The bedstead is quite large enough for her.' 'And she is not
here now?' I said, utterly amazed at all this. 'No,' she answered, 'she
is not here now, but we try to have her with us as much as we can, and
always keep her little bed ready for her.' 'I suppose she's with her
father's people,' I said, and she answered, 'Oh yes,' and bade me
good-night. What does all this mean? Our boarder told us that the
daughter is grown up, and here his wife declares that she is only four
years old! I don't know what in the world to make of this mystery!"

I could give Euphemia no clue. I supposed there was some mistake, and
that was all I could say, except that I was sleepy, and that we could
find out all about it in the morning. But Euphemia could not dismiss the
subject from her mind. She said no more,--but I could see--until I fell
a