e told
you is, that it is a moral impossibility that any son or daughter of Adam
can stand on this ground that I put my foot on, or on any ground that
mortal treads, and gainsay the healthy tenure on which we hold our
existence."

"Which is," sneered the Hermit, "according to you--"

"Which is," returned the other, "according to Eternal Providence, that we
must arise and wash our faces and do our gregarious work and act and re-
act on one another, leaving only the idiot and the palsied to sit
blinking in the corner. Come!" apostrophising the gate. "Open Sesame!
Show his eyes and grieve his heart! I don't care who comes, for I know
what must come of it!"

With that, he faced round a little on his billet of wood towards the
gate; and Mr. Mopes, the Hermit, after two or three ridiculous bounces of
indecision at his bed and back again, submitted to what he could not help
himself against, and coiled himself on his window-ledge, holding to his
bars and looking out rather anxiously.

CHAPTER VI--PICKING UP MISS KIMMEENS {1}

The day was by this time waning, when the gate again opened, and, with
the brilliant golden light that streamed from the declining sun and
touched the very bars of the sooty creature's den, there passed in a
little child; a little girl with beautiful bright hair. She wore a plain
straw hat, had a door-key in her hand, and tripped towards Mr. Traveller
as if she were pleased to see him and were going to repose some childish
confidence in him, when she caught sight of the figure behind the bars,
and started back in terror.

"Don't be alarmed, darling!" said Mr. Traveller, taking her by the hand.

"Oh, but I don't like it!" urged the shrinking child; "it's dreadful."

"Well! I don't like it either," said Mr. Traveller.

"Who has put it there?" asked the little girl. "Does it bite?"

"No,--only barks. But can't you make up your mind to see it, my dear?"
For she was covering her eyes.

"O no no no!" returned the child. "I cannot bear to look at it!"

Mr. Traveller turned his head towards his friend in there, as much as to
ask him how he liked that instance of his success, and then took the
child out at the still open gate, and stood talking to her for some half
an hour in the mellow sunlight. At length he returned, encouraging her
as she held his arm with both her hands; and laying his protecting hand
upon her head and smoothing her pretty hair, he addressed his friend
behind the