welve hours out of twenty-four, do everything I've been told to
do, with no result whatever except to grow duller." The young man yawned
as he spoke. "Do excuse me; I've come to such a pass that I'm not able
to look any one in the face without yawning. All things considered, I am
afraid I shouldn't be any better off in heaven. I'm afraid I couldn't
stand the people, there must be so many of them. I want to get away from
people."

"I know exactly where to send you," said Miss Valentine. "I was thinking
about it when you came in. It isn't heaven, but it is very near it, and
it also begins with H; and you are sure to like it--that is, unless you
object to the ghost."

"Oh, not in the least; only is the rest of it all right? Things are not,
generally; either the drainage is bad or there is a haunted room, and
every one who sleeps in it dies, and of course one cannot help sleeping
in it, just to see how it is going to work."

"Nothing of the kind," returned Miss Valentine; "the drainage is
excellent; and as for the haunted room, I once shared it half a summer
with a niece and namesake of mine, and we were never troubled by any
unusual occurrence, and we are both in excellent health and likely to
remain so. The ghost is reported to have a Mona Lisa face, to be dressed
in black, with something white and fluffy at the neck and sleeves, gold
bracelets, a necklace and ring of black pearls, and she carries a rose.
If her appearance means death or misfortune, the rose is white; if she
is only straying about in a friendly way, the rose is red.

"The place is called the Halden--the Hill-side. I have taken the
precaution to state vaguely that it is in the neighborhood of Zurich; I
want to do all in my power to keep the spot unspoiled. There is so
little left in Switzerland that is not tired of being looked at--the
trees are tired, and the grass, and the waterfalls; but here is a sweet
hidden-away nook, where everything is as fresh as before the days of
foreign travel. I am going to provide you with the directions for
finding it."

She sat down by the writing-desk, and presently gave a slip of paper to
Morris Davidson, who put it carefully in his pocket-book.

"The castle of the Halden," Miss Valentine continued, "belonged to a
certain countess, by name Maria Regina. There is a tradition that one
night a mist coming down from the mountain concealed the castle from the
village, and when it lifted, behold! the countess and her enti