e found out the whole sad truth--this
one Sunday afternoon. Big Tom was out, and Cis was more restless than
usual. She would not hunt in goat skins with Johnnie and Crusoe, nor
capture the drifting _Hispaniola_ along with Jim Hawkins. She had no
taste even for a lively massacre. And as Johnnie was equally determined
neither to bury Cora again nor float upon a death barge with the Maid of
Astolat, they compromised upon Aladdin and the Princess Buddir al
Buddoor.

The occasion selected was that certain momentous visit to the bath, with
Aladdin and Johnnie placed behind a door in order to catch a glimpse of
the royal lady's face as she came by. Cis was in attendance upon the
Princess, the dismantled blue cotton curtains trailing grandly behind
her and getting trodden upon by the Grand Vizier (in a wheel chair). A
great crowd of ladies and slaves surrounded these celebrities as they
wound through silent streets, between shops filled with silks and jewels
and luscious fruits. The air was heavy with perfume. David, Goliath and
Buckle bore aloft palms with which they stirred this scented breeze.
Going on before, were the four millionaires, likewise a band dispensing
music----

It happened--even as the Princess lifted the mist of her veil to display
her sweet, pale beauty. Cis came short unexpectedly. A strange,
sorrowful, and almost frightened look was in her blue eyes. She held out
helpless, trembling hands to Johnnie. "Oh, what's the use of my trying
to pretend?" she cried. "Johnnie, I can't see them any more! I can't see
them! I can't see them!"

Then, a burst of weeping. Old Grandpa also began to weep. At that Cis
stumbled toward the door of her room, colliding on the way with the end
of the cookstove, since one slender arm was across her eyes, and shut
herself from sight. For some minutes after that the sound of her muffled
sobbing came from that closet over which she had so recently been
proudly happy.

Johnnie first quieted the little old soldier by rolling him to and fro
between Albany and Pittsburgh. Then he went to stand at Cis's door,
where he listened, his head bent, his heart full of tender concern. Very
wisely he said nothing, asked no questions. It was not till the sobbing
ceased that he strove to comfort her by his loving, awkward, boyish
attentions.

"Cis, can't I fetch y' a cup of nice, sugared cold tea?" he called in.
"'R a saucer with some hot beans?"

"Oh, no," she quavered.

Now he knew what had