th one movement of his body
he dropped to the floor and crawled under the table.

Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had
lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity
to her next interview with Mr. Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she
was imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge.

She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the
bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; plain,
too, that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to have
suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her
courage rose higher at the thought. He must come now, she must force him
from his privacy, for the plank was too heavy for her single strength;
so she tapped upon the open door. Then she tapped again.

"Mr. Jimson," she cried, "Mr. Jimson! here, come!--you _must_ come, you
know, sooner or later, for I can't get off without you. O, don't be so
exceedingly silly! O, please, come!"

Still there was no reply.

"If he _is_ here he must be mad," she thought, with a little fear. And
the next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself
in a boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she
pushed open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay
smothered with dust, Gideon's heart stood still.

There were the remains of Jimson's lunch. "He likes rather nice things
to eat," she thought. "O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I
wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr. Forsyth. Mrs. Jimson--I don't
believe it sounds as nice as Mrs. Forsyth; but then 'Gideon' is so
really odious! And here is some of his music too; this is delightful.
_Orange Pekoe_--O, that's what he meant by some kind of tea." And she
trilled with laughter. "_Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato_," she
read next. (For the literary part of a composer's business Gideon was
well equipped.) "How very strange to have all these directions, and only
three or four notes! O, here's another with some more. _Andante
patetico._" And she began to glance over the music. "O dear me," she
thought, "he must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let's
try the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar." She began to sing
it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. "Why, it's 'Tommy make room
for your Uncle!'" she cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled
with bitterness. "_Andante patetico_, indeed! The