you he'd git you some fine day!"

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces retorted--what, Gwendolyn did not hear. She was
sick with apprehension. "I guess I won't find my father and moth-er
now," she whispered miserably.

Then, all at once, she could see _more_ than a face! Silhouetted against
the lighted sky was a figure--broad shouldered and belted, with
swinging cudgel, and visored cap. It was like those dreaded figures that
patroled the Drive--yet how different! For as the Policeman came on, his
wild face peered between his coat-tails!--peered between his coat-tails
for the reason that he was _upside down_, and walking _on his hands!_

"_Hoo! hoo!_ Hoo! hoo!" he clamored again. His coat flopped about his
ears. His natural merino socks showed where his trousers fell away from
his shoes. His club bumped the side of his head at every stride of his
long blue-clad arms.

His identification was complete. For precisely as Thomas had declared,
he was _heels over head_.

"My!" breathed Gwendolyn, so astonished that she almost forgot to be
anxious for her own safety. (What a marvelous Land was this--where
everything was really as it ought to be!)

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces addressed her, smiling down. "You won't mind if
we don't start for a minute or two, will you?" he inquired. "This
Officer will probably want to discuss the prices of eyes. You see, I
gave him his black one. If he wants another, though, I shall be obliged
to ask the Piper to collect."

"Aren't--aren't you afraid of him?" stammered Gwendolyn, in a whisper.

"_Afraid?_" he echoed, surprised. "Why, no! Are _you?_"

Somehow, she felt ashamed. "N-n-not very," she faltered.

No sooner did she partly deny her fear than she experienced a most
delicious feeling of security! And this feeling grew as she watched the
nearing Policeman. For she saw that he was in a mournful state.

It was worry and grief that distorted his face. The dark eyes above the
visor (both the black eye and the other one) were streaming with tears,
tears which, naturally enough, ran from the four corners of his eyes,
down across his forehead, and on into his hair. And it was evident that
he had been weeping for a long time, for his cap was full!

And now she realized that the hoarse cries which had filled her with
terror were the saddest of complaints!--were not "Hoo! hoo!" but "_Boo!_
hoo!"

"Poor man!" sympathized the little old gentleman, wagging his beard.

Jane, however, with characteristic l