use she ended at the waist! But far
from being depressed by the apparent absence of all below the lower
edge of her gold belt with its glittering diamond buckle, she was
cheerful, and now and then would sing a little song. Her sweetness of
manner and voice and the plumpness of her rounded arms and shoulders
were what had won Sampey's heart and made him all the more zealous in
his useful occupation of devising the names which Castellani bestowed
on his freaks.

Hoolagaloo had suffered a turning of the head by his good fortune. He
imagined that because he was monstrous he was great. That made him
arrogant and presumptuous. He, too, loved Zoe. Thus it came about that
a rivalry was established between Sampey and the Wild Man of Milo. How
was it with Zoe? Which loved she?--or loved she either? Observing and
reflecting, she dreamed. As it was eyes only that she saw, it was of
eyes only that she dreamed.

"Ah," sighed this innocent girl, "that I could see in reality the eyes
of my dreams! So many, many eyes stare at me in my booth, and yet the
eyes of my dreams come not! Blue eyes, brown eyes, black eyes, hazel
eyes, gray eyes, all of every shade, but not yet have come the eyes I
so long to see! Those which do come are commonplace; their owners are
commonplace--just ordinary mortals. I'm sure that princes, knights, and
heroes _must_ have the eyes that beam on me as I sleep. I'm sure,
indeed, that such eyes will come in time, and that by such a sign I
shall know my hero, my master, my love!"

She cautiously asked the Wild Man of Milo about it one day, but his
answer was a coarse guffaw; then, seeing that he had made a mistake, he
kissed her. The hair of his tufted nose thus got into her pretty blue
eyes, and she shuddered.

Then she went to Sampey, who was wise, cool, and politic. He listened,
amazed, but attentive. The opportunity of his life had come. When he
had gathered up his dismayed and scattered wits, he gravely answered:

"Muggie, these eyes that appear in your dreams--is it a particular
color or a certain expression which they have?"

"Color," she answered.

"What color?"

"A soft, pale, limpid amber."

She said it so innocently, so earnestly, so sweetly, that he could
doubt neither her sincerity nor her sanity. Thus the crisis had fallen
upon him and had nearly crushed him.

Nevertheless, he set his wits at work. Pondering, analyzing, ransacking
every nook in the warehouse of his mental resources, he fou