thread, like a river crawling across a world--like a thought gliding
to the brain--like a song, a thin, sharp song which some distant voice
was singing--which I was singing.

"And I knew that I was mewing!

"I threw myself back in my chair and mewed with all my heart. Oh, that
heavy load which was lifted from my breast! How good, how satisfying
it was to mew! And how I did miaul and yowl!

"I gave myself up to it, heart and soul; my whole being thrilled with
the passionate outpourings of a spirit freed. My voice trembled in the
upper bars of a feline love-song, quavered, descended, swelling again
into an intimation that I brooked no rival, and ended with a
magnificent crescendo.

"I finished, somewhat abashed, and glanced askance at the professor
and his daughter, but the one sat nonchalantly disentangling his
coat-tails, and the other was apparently absorbed in the distant
landscape. Evidently they did not consider me ridiculous. Flushing
painfully, I turned in my chair to see how my grewsome solo had
affected the people on the terrace. Nobody even looked at me. This,
however, gave me little comfort, for, as I began to realize what I had
done, my mortification and rage knew no bounds. I was ready to die of
shame. What on earth had induced me to mew? I looked wildly about for
escape--I would leap up--rush home to bury my burning face in my
pillows, and, later, in the friendly cabin of a homeward-bound
steamer. I would fly--fly at once! Woe to the man who blocked my way!
I started to my feet, but at that moment I caught Miss Wyeth's eyes
fixed on mine.

"'Don't go,' she said.

"What in Heaven's name lay in those blue eyes? I slowly sank back into
my chair.

"Then the professor spoke: 'Wilhelmina, I have just received a
despatch.'

"'Where from, papa?'

"'From India. I'm going at once.'

"She nodded her head, without turning her eyes from the sea. 'Is it
important, papa?'

"'I should say so. The cashier of the local trust has compromised an
astral body, and has squandered on her all our funds, including a lot
of first mortgages on Nirvana. I suppose he's been dabbling in futures
and is short in his accounts. I sha'n't be gone long.'

"'Then, good-night, papa,' she said, kissing him; 'try to be back by
eleven.' I sat stupidly staring at them.

"'Oh, it's only to Bombay--I sha'n't go to Thibet
to-night--good-night, my dear,' said the professor.

"Then a singular thing occurred. The professor had at las