hingness of
the reflected eyes until it became almost an actual strange presence.
If it could be identified, perhaps the presence was that of the hidden
designer who handed up the false, ready-made pictures, and, for unknown
purposes, made Alice exhibit them; but whatever it was, she suddenly
found it monkey-like and terrifying. In a flutter she jumped up and went
to another part of the room.

A moment or two later she was whistling softly as she hung her light
coat over a wooden triangle in her closet, and her musing now was
quainter than the experience that led to it; for what she thought was
this, "I certainly am a queer girl!" She took a little pride in so much
originality, believing herself probably the only person in the world to
have such thoughts as had been hers since she entered the room, and the
first to be disturbed by a strange presence in the mirror. In fact, the
effect of the tiny episode became apparent in that look of preoccupied
complacency to be seen for a time upon any girl who has found reason to
suspect that she is a being without counterpart.

This slight glow, still faintly radiant, was observed across the
dinner-table by Walter, but he misinterpreted it. "What YOU lookin' so
self-satisfied about?" he inquired, and added in his knowing way, "I saw
you, all right, cutie!"

"Where'd you see me?"

"Down-town."

"This afternoon, you mean, Walter?"

"Yes, 'this afternoon, I mean, Walter,'" he returned, burlesquing
her voice at least happily enough to please himself; for he laughed
applausively. "Oh, you never saw me! I passed you close enough to pull
a tooth, but you were awful busy. I never did see anybody as busy as
you get, Alice, when you're towin' a barge. My, but you keep your hands
goin'! Looked like the air was full of 'em! That's why I'm onto why you
look so tickled this evening; I saw you with that big fish."

Mrs. Adams laughed benevolently; she was not displeased with this
rallying. "Well, what of it, Walter?" she asked. "If you happen to see
your sister on the street when some nice young man is being attentive to
her----"

Walter barked and then cackled. "Whoa, Sal!" he said. "You got the parts
mixed. It's little Alice that was 'being attentive.' I know the big fish
she was attentive to, all right, too."

"Yes," his sister retorted, quietly. "I should think you might have
recognized him, Walter."

Walter looked annoyed. "Still harpin' on THAT!" he complained. "The kind
of wo