be "all right," and he desired nobody to interfere with his misery.

He went to his mirror, and, gazing long--long and piercingly--at the
William there limned, enacted, almost unconsciously, a little scene of
parting. The look of suffering upon the mirrored face slowly altered; in
its place came one still sorrowful, but tempered with sweet indulgence.
He stretched out his hand, as if he set it upon a head at about the
height of his shoulder.

"Yes, it may mean--it may mean forever!" he said in a low, tremulous
voice. "Little girl, we MUST be brave!"

And the while his eyes gazed into the mirror, they became expressive
of a momentary pleased surprise, as if, even in the arts of sorrow, he
found himself doing better than he knew. But his sorrow was none the
less genuine because of that.

Then he noticed the ink upon his forehead, and went away to wash. When
he returned he did an unusual thing--he brushed his coat thoroughly,
removing it for this special purpose. After that, he earnestly combed
and brushed his hair, and retied his tie. Next, he took from a drawer
two clean handkerchiefs. He placed one in his breast pocket, part of the
colored border of the handkerchief being left on exhibition, and with
the other he carefully wiped his shoes. Finally, he sawed it back and
forth across them, and, with a sigh, languidly dropped it upon the
floor, where it remained.

Returning to the mirror, he again brushed his hair--he went so far, this
time, as to brush his eyebrows, which seemed not much altered by the
operation. Suddenly, he was deeply affected by something seen in the
glass.

"By George!" he exclaimed aloud.

Seizing a small hand-mirror, he placed it in juxtaposition to his right
eye, and closely studied his left profile as exhibited in the larger
mirror. Then he examined his right profile, subjecting it to a like
scrutiny emotional, yet attentive and prolonged.

"By George!" he exclaimed, again. "By George!"

He had made a discovery. There was a downy shadow upon his upper lip.
What he had just found out was that this down could be seen projecting
beyond the line of his lip, like a tiny nimbus. It could be seen in
PROFILE.

"By GEORGE!" William exclaimed.

He was still occupied with the two mirrors when his mother again tapped
softly upon his door, rousing him as from a dream (brief but engaging)
to the heavy realities of that day.

"What you want now?"

"I won't come in," said Mrs. Baxter. "I just ca