orses.

"Here we turn down," said Richling, "into the way of the Naiads." (That
was the street's name.) "They're not trying to get me away."

He looked down playfully. She was clinging to him with more energy than
she knew.

"I'd better hold you tight," she answered. Both laughed. The nonsense of
those we love is better than the finest wit on earth. They walked on in
their bliss. Shall we follow? Fie!

They passed down across three or four of a group of parallel streets
named for the nine muses. At Thalia they took the left, went one square,
and turned up by another street toward home.

Their conversation had flagged. Silence was enough. The great earth was
beneath their feet, firm and solid; the illimitable distances of the
heavens stretched above their heads and before their eyes. Here was Mary
at John's side, and John at hers; John her property and she his, and
time flowing softly, shiningly on. Yea, even more. If one might believe
the names of the streets, there were Naiads on the left and Dryads on
the right; a little farther on, Hercules; yonder corner the dark
trysting-place of Bacchus and Melpomene; and here, just in advance,
the corner where Terpsichore crossed the path of Apollo.

They came now along a high, open fence that ran the entire length
of a square. Above it a dense rank of bitter orange-trees overhung the
sidewalk, their dark mass of foliage glittering in the moonlight. Within
lay a deep, old-fashioned garden. Its white shell-walks gleamed in many
directions. A sweet breath came from its parterres of mingled hyacinths
and jonquils that hid themselves every moment in black shadows of
lagustrums and laurestines. Here, in severe order, a pair of palms, prim
as mediaeval queens, stood over against each other; and in the midst of
the garden, rising high against the sky, appeared the pillared veranda
and immense, four-sided roof of an old French colonial villa, as it
stands unchanged to-day.

The two loiterers slackened their pace to admire the scene. There was
much light shining from the house. Mary could hear voices, and, in a
moment, words. The host was speeding his parting guests.

"The omnibus will put you out only one block from the hotel," some one
said.

* * *

Dr. Sevier, returning home from a visit to a friend in Polymnia street,
had scarcely got well seated in the omnibus before he witnessed from its
window a singular dumb show. He had handed his money up to the d