world, of whose existence, up to that
moment, I had been in complete ignorance. She was dressed especially for
my coming, they told me afterward, exactly as she had been that morning
when Alan found her. They wanted to confound me, and they succeeded.

I stood staring in amazement while Beth quietly introduced me. And Miela
spread her wings, curtsied, and replied in a quaint, soft little voice: "I
am honored, sir." Then she laughed prettily and, extending her hand,
added: "How do you do, Bob--my friend?"

When I had partially recovered from my astonishment Miela put on the big
blue-cloth cape she wore constantly to cover her wings. Then Alan and Beth
plunged into an excited explanation of how he had found Miela, and how all
this time she had remained in seclusion with them there studying their
language.

"You never have seen such assiduous young people," Professor Newland put
in. "And certainly she has been a wonderful pupil."

He patted Miela's hand affectionately; but I noticed then that his eyes
were very sad, as though from some unvoiced trouble or apprehension.

They had decided, the professor said, to keep the girl's presence a secret
from the world until they had learned from her in detail what her mission
was. The vehicle in which she had come was still on the island up the
bayou. Alan had stationed there three young men of Bay Head whom he could
trust. They were living on the island, guarding it.

During these two months while Miela, with uncanny rapidity, was mastering
their language, the Newlands had of course learned from her all she had to
tell them. The situation in Wyoming did not necessitate haste on their
part, and so they had waited. And now, with a decision reached, they sent
for me.

That evening after supper we all went out on the bungalow porch, and Miela
told me her story. She spoke quietly, with her hands clasped nervously in
her lap. At times in her narrative her eyes shone with the eager, earnest
sincerity of her words; at others they grew big and troubled as she spoke
of the problems that were harassing her world and mine--the inevitable
self-struggles of humanity, whatever its environment, itself its own worst
enemy.

"I am daughter of Lua," Miela began slowly, "of the Great City in the
Country of Light. My mother, Lua, is a teacher of the people. My father,
Thaal, died when still I was a child. I--I came to your earth--"

She paused and, turning to Beth, added appealingly: "Oh, the