is eyes, from
which the visions of youth had been so suddenly removed, there appeared
a beautiful, stately old lady seventy-one years of age. It was just as
natural as if one of them had slept all day while the other had remained
awake; it was all the same to them both in the evening.

"She soon ceased to think how cruelly she had sent him away from her,
for she had been so young when she did it. And he now gave no thought to
what she had done, remembering how young she was when she did it. They
were as happy as though she had had all the past that rightfully
belonged to her, for he had had enough for both of them."

"And Jaqui?" asked the Mistress of the House.

"Oh, Jaqui was the happiest of the three of them, happy himself, and
happy in their happiness. Never again did he wish the lady in her box.
He looked no further for a smaller house which should contain but two
floors; he was as glad to stay where he was as they were to have him.
They were three very happy people, all of them greatly interested in the
progress of scientific investigation."

"And not one of them deserved to be happy," said the Daughter of the
House.

"But you must remember, miss, this is a story about realities," said the
gardener.

She sighed a little sigh; she knew that where realities are concerned
this sort of thing generally happens.

"That is a very good story, John," said the Mistress of the House,
rising from her seat; "but it seems to me that while you were talking
you sometimes thought of yourself as Jaqui."

"There is something in that, madam," answered the gardener; "it may have
been that during the story I sometimes did think that I myself might
have been Jaqui."

"Mamma," said the Daughter of the House, as the two walked out of the
garden, "don't you think that John Gayther is very intelligent?"

"I have always thought him remarkably intelligent," her mother replied.
"I have noticed that gardeners generally are a thoughtful, intelligent
race of men."

"I don't think it is so much the garden as because he has travelled so
much," said the young lady, "and I have a strange feeling that he has a
story of his own in the past. I wonder if he will ever tell it to me."

"If he has such a story," said the elder lady, "he will never tell it to
you."

THIS STORY IS TOLD BY

THE MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE

AND IS CALLED

THE COT AND