ace."

The boy had spoken so fast that he was out of breath.

"Hold a bit!" I cried. "What you have said sounds familiar. Where could I
have heard it before?"

There was something almost like a sneer on the boy's face. "What a memory
you have! And perhaps you recall this brown suit, too. It's ugly enough to
be remembered. Now please let me finish what came to me this afternoon on
the hill! Prometheus," he continued, "scaled the heavens and brought back
fire to mortals. And he, as the story goes, clutched at a lightning bolt
and caught but a spark. And even that, glorious. Mankind properly accredits
him with a marvellous achievement. It is for this reason that I comfort
myself although I have not yet written a single line of verse."

"My dear fellow," I said, "please tell me where I have read something like
what you have spoken?"

The boy's answer was irrelevant. "You first tell me what you did with a
brown checked suit you once owned."

"I never owned but one brown suit," I replied, "and that was when I was
still in college. I think that I gave it away before it was worn out."

The boy once more clapped his hands. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it. I'll give
mine tomorrow to the man who takes our ashes. Now, won't you please play
the piano for me?"

"Assuredly. Choose your tune!"

He fumbled a bit in the rack and passing some rather good music, he held up
a torn and yellow sheet. "This is what I want," he said.

I had not played it for many years. After a false start or so--for it was
villainously set in four sharps for which I have an aversion--I got through
it. On a second trial I did better.

The boy made no comment. He had sunk down in his chair until he was quite
out of sight. "Well," I said, "what next?"

There was no answer.

I arose from the bench and glanced in his direction. "Hello," I cried,
"what has become of you?"

The chair was empty. I turned on all the lights. He was nowhere in sight. I
shook the hangings. I looked under my desk, for perhaps the lad was hiding
from me in jest. It was unlikely that he could have passed me to gain the
door, but I listened at the sill for any sound upon the stairs. The hall
was silent. I called without response. Somewhat bewildered I came back to
the hearth. Only a few minutes before, as it seemed, there had been a brisk
fire with a row of orange peel upon the upper log. Now all trace of the
peel was gone and the logs had fallen to a white ash.

I was standing pe