pink-cheeked moon leered at him from the top of a tall clock.
Bewilderedly he looked toward the sitting-room. There, too, everything
was changed. The floor was painted gray. Rugs took the place of carpet.
Gauzy lace curtains hung at the windows. A canary in a gilt cage sung
above an open window. Oh, plainly he was bewitched or the world was
topsy-turvy! The look he turned on the girl was so helpless, so
entreating that her face, which had begun to set coldly, softened
instantly. The hand clasping the curtain fold fell to her side and she
took a step toward him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, kindly.

Wade passed a hand over his eyes.

"I don't know," he murmured. "Will you please tell me where I am?"

"You're in my house. I am Miss Walton."

"Your house? Then--then where is mine, please?" he asked, helplessly.

"Just beyond here; the next one."

"Oh!" he said. He sought for words with which to explain the situation,
but found none. He backed out, tripped slightly over the sill and found
himself on the top step. He dared one more look into the girl's amused
and sympathetic face and then turned and fled precipitately. At the gate
he brushed against some one, muttered an apology, and plunged through.
Evelyn Walton, following his course of flight from the doorway, laughed
softly. Miss Caroline Mullett, standing on tiptoe in the middle of the
path, strove to see over the hedge, and, failing, turned to the girl