e very straight, slim young shoulders; an old
ridiculous fez--an abomination of his freshman year, kept for
sentimental reasons--adorned the head of the small stranger and only
partly held in check the mass of shadowy hair that rippled from it and
around a mischievous face.

Surprise, then wonder, swayed Truedale. When he reached the wonder
stage, thought deserted him. He simply looked and kept on wondering.
Through this confusion, words presently reached him. The masquerader
within was bowing and scraping comically, and in a low, musical voice
said:

"How-de, Mister Outlander, sir! How-de? I saw your smoke a-curling way
back from home, sir, and I've come a-visiting 'long o' you, Mister
Outlander."

Another sweeping curtsey reduced Truedale to helpless mirth and he
fairly shouted, doubling up as he did so.

The effect of his outburst upon the young person within was tremendous.
She seemed turned to stone. She stared at the face in the window; she
turned red and white--the absurd fez dangling over her left ear. Then
she emitted what seemed to be one word, so lingeringly sweet was the
drawl.

"Godda'mighty!"

Seeing that there was going to be no other concession, Truedale pulled
himself together, went around to the front door and knocked,
ceremoniously. The girl turned, as if on a pivot, but spoke no word.

She had the most wonderful eyes--innocent and pleading; she was a mere
child and, although she looked awed now, was evidently a forward young
native who deserved a good lesson. Truedale determined to give her one!

"If you don't mind," he said, "I'll come in and sit down."

This he did while the big, solemn eyes followed him alertly.

"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what you mean by--wearing my
clothes?"

Still the silence and the blank stare.

"You must answer my questions!" Truedale's voice sounded stern. "I
suppose you didn't expect me back so soon?"

The deep eyes confirmed this by the drooping of the lids.

"And you broke in--what for?"

No answer.

"Who are you?"

Really the situation was becoming unbearable, so Truedale changed his
tactics. He would play with the poor little thing and reassure her.

"Now that I look at you I see what you are. You're not a human at all.
You're a spirit of something or other--probably of one of those perky
mountains over yonder. The White Maid, I bet! You had to don my clothes
in order to materialize before my eyes and you had to use that word o