rkened to Sedyard's tale.

"So you see," said John in conclusion, "what I'm up against. I really
didn't want the dummy when I bought it and you can bet I'm tired of it
now. What I wanted was the clothes, and I guess the thing for me to do
is just to take them in the cab and leave the figure here."

"What!" thundered McDonogh. "You're going to leave a dummy without her
clothes here on my beat? Not if I see ye first, ye ain't, and if ye try
it on I'll run ye in."

"Say! I'll tell you what you want," piped up the still buoyant, smart
youth. "You need one of them open taxicabs.

"He needs a hearse," corrected the disgruntled cabman. "Somethin' she
can lay down in comfortable an' take in the sights through the windows."

"Now, he needs a taxi. He can leave her stand in the back all right,
but I guess," he warned John, "you'll have to sit in with her and hold
her head on."

And thus it was that Maudie left the scene. She left, too, the smart
youth, the cabman and the noble, noble officer. And as the taxi bumped
over the trolley tracks she, despite all Sedyard's efforts, turned her
head and smiled out at them straight over her near-princesse back.

"Gee!" said the smart youth, "ain't she the friendliest bunch of
calico."

"This case," said the noble Patrolman McDonogh with unpunctual
inspiration, "had ought to be looked into by rights."

"Chauffeur," said John Sedyard to the shadowy form before him, "just
pick out the darkest streets, will you?"

"Yes, sir," answered the chauffeur looking up into the bland smile and
the outstretched hand above him. "I'll make it if I can but if we get
stopped, don't blame me."

A year later, or so it seemed to John Sedyard, the taxicab, panting with
indignation at the insults and interferences to which it had been
subjected, turned into Sedyard's eminently respectable block and drew up
before his eminently handsome house.

He paid and propitiated the chauffeur, took his lovely burden in his
arms and staggered up the steps with the half regretful feeling of one
who steps out of the country of adventure back to prosaic things. He
found his latchkey, opened his door and drew Maudie into the hall. And
on the landing half-way up the stairs stood his sister Edith, evidently
the bearer of some pleasant tidings.

Maudie's smile flashed up at her from John's shoulder. Edith stared,
stiffened, and retraced her steps. John wheeled the figure into the
reception-room and thus addressed it: