any perfume of peppermint, Mr. Keeler's transparent
camouflage at a vacation's beginning. And Laban was not humming the
refrain glorifying his "darling hanky-panky." Apparently he had not yet
embarked upon the spree which Captain Lote had pronounced imminent. But
why did he behave so queerly?

"I ain't the way you think, Al," declared the little man, divining his
thought. "I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all. That's all,
that's all, that's all. Yes, yes. Come, come! COME!"

The last "come" burst from him in an agony of impatience. Albert
hastened up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way. The latter fumbled
with a key, his companion heard it rattling against the keyhole plate.
Then the door opened. There was a lamp, its wick turned low, burning
upon the table in the room. Mr. Keeler turned it up, making a trembly
job of the turning. Albert looked about him; he had never been in that
room before.

It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it. And it was a
neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own chambermaid.
Most things seemed to have places where they belonged and most of them
appeared to be in those places. What impressed Albert even more was the
number of books. There were books everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on
the pine shelf between the windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the
table beside the lamp. They were worn and shabby volumes for the most
part, some with but half a cover remaining, some with none. He picked up
one of the latter. It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it,
to his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the whimsical
smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip.

"Philosophy, Al," he observed. "If Locke don't suit you try the 'mad
hatter' feller. I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter, myself.
Do you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about the three
sisters that lived in the well? He said they lived on everything that
began with M. Alice says 'Why with an M?' And the hatter, or the March
hare, I forget which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why not?' . . . Yes, yes, why
not? that's what he said. . . . There's some philosophy in that, Al. Why
does a hen go across the road? Why not? Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to
all his friends and the town he lives in? Why not? . . . Eh? . . . Yes,
yes. That's it--why not?"

He smiled again, but there was bi