elephant-trainer from Barnum & Bailey's,
sent by Mr. Collier to look at the elephant's quarters and get him
settled when he should arrive. Orders were given to bring the man over.
The day of doom was at hand.

But Lounsbury's detective instinct came once more into play. He had seen
a good many elephant-trainers at Bridgeport, and he thought this one had
a doubtful look.

"Where is the elephant?" he asked, as they drove along.

"He will arrive at noon."

"Where are you going to put him?"

"In the loggia."

"How big is he?"

"About the size of a cow."

"How long have you been with Barnum and Bailey?"

"Six years."

"Then you must know some friends of mine" (naming two that had no
existence until that moment).

"Oh yes, indeed. I know them well."

Lounsbury didn't say any more just then, but he had a feeling that
perhaps the dread at Stormfield had grown unnecessarily large. Something
told him that this man seemed rather more like a butler, or a valet,
than an elephant-trainer. They drove to Stormfield, and the trainer
looked over the place. It would do perfectly, he said. He gave a few
instructions as to the care of this new household feature, and was
driven back to the station to bring it.

Lounsbury came back by and by, bringing the elephant but not the
trainer. It didn't need a trainer. It was a beautiful specimen, with
soft, smooth coat and handsome trappings, perfectly quiet, well-behaved
and small--suited to the loggia, as Collier had said--for it was only
two feet long and beautifully made of cloth and cotton--one of the
forest toy elephants ever seen anywhere.

It was a good joke, such as Mark Twain loved--a carefully prepared,
harmless bit of foolery. He wrote Robert Collier, threatening him
with all sorts of revenge, declaring that the elephant was devastating
Stormfield.

"To send an elephant in a trance, under pretense that it was dead or
stuffed!" he said. "The animal came to life, as you knew it would, and
began to observe Christmas, and we now have no furniture left and
no servants and no visitors, no friends, no photographs, no
burglars--nothing but the elephant. Be kind, be merciful, be generous;
take him away and send us what is left of the earthquake."

Collier wrote that he thought it unkind of him to look a gift-elephant
in the trunk. And with such chaffing and gaiety the year came to an end.

CCLXXVI. SHAKESPEARE-BACON TALK

When the bad weather came there was not much