u, I know it wasn't!"

"It is curled a little and fluffed a little; that's what makes it
look different," I told him patiently.

"Then that frock is curled a little and fluffed a little, and that's
what makes it look different, too," The Author decided, and stared
at me critically. "You are improving," he told me, with
condescension.

"You are _not_!" I was goaded to reply.

The Author merely grinned.

"Do you know," he asked, "if that man Jelnik is coming to-night? I
hope so. Unusual man. Can't think why he buries himself here! Our
old friend Gatchell doesn't seem to admire him. I wonder why?"

"I can't possibly imagine," I replied equably, "unless it is that
the judge grows old."

"Hah!" The Author's eyebrows went up truculently. "And is it a sign
of advancing age and mental decrepitude not to admire this fellow?"

But I laughed at him.

"You're all alike, you women." A wicked light snapped into his eyes.
"Hear, dear lady, the Bard of the Congaree, the Poet Laureate of
South Carolina, Coogle for your benefit," hissed The Author, and
repeated, balefully:

Alas, poor woman, with eyes of sparkling fire,
Thy heart is often won by mankind's gay attire!
So weak thou art, so very weak at best,
Thou canst not look beyond a satin-lined vest!

I've seen thee ofttimes cast a-winning glance,
And be carried away, as it were within a trance,
By the gay apparel of some dishonest youth
Whose bosom heaved with not a single truth!

He was so outrageously funny that I forgave his impertinence. His
face relaxed, and his eyes twinkled. He was in high feather the
remainder of the evening. He was, in fact, so good-humoredly witty
that the boys and girls Alicia had brought home clustered about him
like golden bees.

"Miss Smith," whispered Miss Emmeline, under cover of their
laughter, "may I have a word with you?"

We drifted into the library; and she seated herself, folded her
hands, and said tremulously:

"My dear, my wish has been granted. I have really come in contact
with the Unknown! I have seen something, Miss Smith!" I looked at
her steadily. "Just before dawn," Miss Emmeline continued, "I woke
up, with a curious, indefinable, uneasy sense of trouble, as if
something had happened and I was remembering it, say. I saw how
foolish it was to allow a mere nightmare to worry me, though I am
not subject to nightmares, my conscience and my d