rose perceptibly.
Had she come to this--a common caretaker? And yet--there was Mabel.
Something must certainly be done.

"Who is this man?" she asked aggressively; and then she almost started
from her chair as the name fell from the other's lips--it was that
borne by the Inimitable One.

"That man!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "That famous creature with the
world at his feet!"

The stout gentleman opposite smiled, and his little eyes narrowed to
mere slits of light. He had counted on this. His employer was indeed
famous--very famous, though perhaps not in the way this good lady
supposed. It was not the first time he had traded on this convenient
similarity of names.

"I thought, madam, we had made no mistake. I was sure you would deem
it a privilege. And as for us, your keen appreciative sense of the
fitness of things will--er--will make it a favor to us if you comply
with our request," said he, floundering in helpless confusion for a
moment.

But Mrs. Livingstone did not notice. She went through the rest of that
interview in a dazed, ecstatic wonder. She only knew at its conclusion
that she was to go up to Vermont to care for His house, to live in the
rooms that He had lived in, to rest where He had rested, to walk where
He had walked, to see what He had seen. And she was to receive
pay--money for this blissful privilege. Incredible!

It did not take Mrs. Livingstone long to make all necessary
arrangements. The shabby-genteel house in Boston was rented by the
month, all furnished, and the good lady promptly gave her notice and
packed her trunks for departure. The first day of the month found her
and her daughter whirling away from the city toward their destination.

As they stepped from the train to the platform at the little country
station, Mrs. Livingstone looked about her with awed interest. He had
been here! The jouncing yellow stage coach became a hallowed golden
chariot, and the ride to the house a sacred pilgrimage. She quoted His
poetry on the doorstep, and entered the hall with a reverent obeisance;
whereupon the man who brought the trunks ever after referred to her
with a significant tap on his forehead and the single word "cracked."

"Only think, Mabel, He walked here, and sat here," said the woman
adoringly, suiting the action to the word and sinking into a great
Morris chair.

Mabel sniffed her disdain.

"I presume so; but I should like to know where he ate--maybe he left
so