t likes 'Ulalume'--I
recognize your voice."

"How do I get up?" he cried from the foot of the haystack, whither he
had arrived, dripping wet. A head appeared over the edge--it was so dark
that Amory could just make out a patch of damp hair and two eyes that
gleamed like a cat's.

"Run back!" came the voice, "and jump and I'll catch your hand--no, not
there--on the other side."

He followed directions and as he sprawled up the side, knee-deep in hay,
a small, white hand reached out, gripped his, and helped him onto the
top.

"Here you are, Juan," cried she of the damp hair. "Do you mind if I drop
the Don?"

"You've got a thumb like mine!" he exclaimed.

"And you're holding my hand, which is dangerous without seeing my face."
He dropped it quickly.

As if in answer to his prayers came a flash of lightning and he looked
eagerly at her who stood beside him on the soggy haystack, ten feet
above the ground. But she had covered her face and he saw nothing but a
slender figure, dark, damp, bobbed hair, and the small white hands with
the thumbs that bent back like his.

"Sit down," she suggested politely, as the dark closed in on them. "If
you'll sit opposite me in this hollow you can have half of the raincoat,
which I was using as a water-proof tent until you so rudely interrupted
me."

"I was asked," Amory said joyfully; "you asked me--you know you did."

"Don Juan always manages that," she said, laughing, "but I shan't call
you that any more, because you've got reddish hair. Instead you can
recite 'Ulalume' and I'll be Psyche, your soul."

Amory flushed, happily invisible under the curtain of wind and rain.
They were sitting opposite each other in a slight hollow in the hay with
the raincoat spread over most of them, and the rain doing for the rest.
Amory was trying desperately to see Psyche, but the lightning refused to
flash again, and he waited impatiently. Good Lord! supposing she wasn't
beautiful--supposing she was forty and pedantic--heavens! Suppose,
only suppose, she was mad. But he knew the last was unworthy. Here had
Providence sent a girl to amuse him just as it sent Benvenuto Cellini
men to murder, and he was wondering if she was mad, just because she
exactly filled his mood.

"I'm not," she said.

"Not what?"

"Not mad. I didn't think you were mad when I first saw you, so it isn't
fair that you should think so of me."

"How on earth--"

As long as they knew each other Eleanor and Amory coul