y, with
further disastrous results to the young man's cardiac mechanism.

"Have yours come true?"

"You have," he averred.

"Then you're glad to see me again?"

Again? _Again?_ Here it behooved him to go cautiously. Inwardly he
cursed the reticence of Judge Enderby with a fervor which would have
caused that aged jurist the keenest delight. Then he made one more
despairing call upon the reserve forces of memory. In vain. Still, he
mustn't let her see that. Play up and trust to happy chance!

"Glad!" he repeated. "Don't you hear a sound of inner music? That's my
heart singing the Doxology."

"Very pretty," the girl approved. "How is the poor foot?"

"Much better, thank you. Did you see that murderous assault?"

"See it? I?" The Vision opened wide eyes of astonishment.

"Yes. I didn't notice you in the crowd."

She gave him a long look of mock-pathetic reproach from under drooped
lids. "Oh, false and faithless cavalier. You've forgotten me. Already!"

"Once seeing you, I couldn't forget you in ten thousand years," he
cried. "There's some mistake. I don't know you."

Her laughter rippled about him like the play of sunlight made audible.

"Oh, antidote to vanity, look at me," she commanded.

"It's the very easiest task ever man was set to," he asserted with such
earnestness that the color rose in her cheeks.

"Before I vanish forever, I'll give you your chance. Come! Who am I?
One--two--thuh-ree-ee."

"Wait! You're Titania. You're an Undine of the Atlantic. You're the
White Hope, becomingly tinged with pink, of American Womanhood. You're
the Queen of Hearts and all the rest of the trumps in the deck. You are
also Cleopatra, and, and--Helen of Troy. But above all, of course, to me
you are the Sphinx."

"And you," she remarked, "are a Perfect Pig. 'The pig is a praiseworthy
character. The pig suffereth--'"

"Little Miss Grouch!" The words burst from him with the propulsive
energy of total amazement. The next instant he was submerged in shame.

"I never saw anyone's ears turn scarlet before," she observed, with
delicate and malicious appreciation of the phenomenon.

"It's a symptom of the last decay of the mind. But are you really
the--the runaway girl?"

"I really am, thanks to your help."

"But you look so totally different."

"Well," she reminded him. "You said you probably wouldn't recognize me
when you saw me again."

"I don't wholly believe in you yet. How did you work the miracle?"

"Not a