far on the road to perdition," Elinor
said. "I hurried down this way from choir practice and Uncle Lloyd's
gone and left the lower door locked. It thundered so, and Dennie didn't
come into the study, and nobody heard my screams. But if I perish, I
perish," she added with mock resignation.

"If you'll let up on perishing for half a minute, Rapunzel, I'll to
the rescue," Vic cried, "if I have to climb the dome and knock the _per
aspera_ out of the State Seal and come down through the hole, _per astra
ad aspera_." And then he rushed off to find an unlocked exit to the
building.

From the Chapel end of the circular stairs, he called presently.

"Curfew must not ring for a couple of seconds. Rise to the surface, fair
mermaid."

Elinor came up the winding stair into the dimly lighted chapel at his
call. The two had avoided each other since the April day in the glen.
They were not to blame for this chance meeting now.

"When you are in trouble and the nights are dark and rainy, call me,
Elinor," Vic said as they were crossing the rotunda.

"If I show you sometimes how to look up and find the light, as you
showed me the Sunrise beacon on the night of the storm out on West
Bluff, you may be glad you heard me. See that glow on the dome! You
would have missed that down in Lagonda Ledge."

A level ray from a momentary cloudrift in the western sky smote the
stained glass of the dome, lighting its gleaming inscription with a
fleeting radiance.

"But the light comes rarely and is so far away, and between times, only
the cave, and the dark ways behind it leading to the river," he said
gravely. The sorrow of hopelessness was his tone.

"Not unless one chooses to burrow downward," she replied softly. "Let's
hurry home. Tomorrow you will be 'Victor the Famous' again. I hope this
shower won't spoil the ball game."

As night deepened, the rain fell steadily. Up in Victor Burleigh's room
Bug Buler grew drowsy early.

"I want to say my pwayers now, Vic," he said.

The big fellow put down his book and took the child in his arms. Bug
had a genius for praying briefly and for others rather than for himself.
Tonight he merely clasped his chubby hands and said, reverently:

"Dear Dod, please ist make Vic dood as folks finks he is, for Thwist's
sake. Amen-n-n."

When he fell asleep, Victor sat a long while staring at the window where
the May rain was beating heavily. At length, he bent over little Bug and
pushed back the curls fro