I must have condensed an enormous amount of sleep into
the last twelve hours," said Smith; "for I feel as well as ever. Tell
me what has happened--I see you have the papers."

"What is going to happen is also important--your breakfast," the girl
responded. "Go over there, where you see that napkin sitting
expectantly on its haunches, and Marie will be in directly."

"Thank you. I hope you won't be scandalized at my appetite. Is the
fire entirely out?"

"Yes--practically. Here's the paper."

"That's very good of you. You'll pardon me if I just look at the
headlines?"

"Of course." And for a few moments there was little conversation in
the sunny dining room.

"And now will you do me a favor?" said Miss Maitland.

Smith looked at her; a long moment.

"I will do anything in the world for you," he said, "except one thing."

The girl flushed a little.

"I want you to take me out to the fire," she responded.

The other looked at her in surprise.

"Why, of course," he said. "I never thought of doing anything else.
If my calculations are correct, it will take me exactly as long to
finish those three pieces of toast as for you to get ready. Better
wear old clothes--it may be pretty dirty."

Five minutes later they descended to the street.

"Why, it's been snowing!" said Smith, in surprise.

A light fall of snow covered sidewalk and lawns; there were few men
this day with sufficient leisure to sweep away snow. As the two went
northward through the bright morning, they walked for the most part in
silence. All seemed very still, for there were no street cars moving,
and most of the customary confusion of a city's streets was oddly
hushed. Few people were abroad, at least along where their path lay;
it was almost as though they were passing through a deserted city.

"Look at that," Smith said once. "I don't believe you were ever on
this corner when you couldn't see a single person."

"Where do you suppose every one is?" asked Helen, curiously.

"At the ruins. Do you know, this reminds me of one of the strangest
things I ever saw."

"What was that?" the girl inquired, turning toward him.

"The only absolutely deserted town in America--at least I think it must
be the only one. I never heard any one speak of another. But I know
this one exists, for I saw it myself."

"Where is it? I never heard of such a thing. It sounds like
Herculaneum or some of those Assyrian cities where they are always