"If you don't mind," he said, "I'll come in and sit down."

This he did while the big, solemn eyes followed him alertly.

"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what you mean by--wearing my
clothes?"

Still the silence and the blank stare.

"You must answer my questions!" Truedale's voice sounded stern. "I
suppose you didn't expect me back so soon?"

The deep eyes confirmed this by the drooping of the lids.

"And you broke in--what for?"

No answer.

"Who are you?"

Really the situation was becoming unbearable, so Truedale changed his
tactics. He would play with the poor little thing and reassure her.

"Now that I look at you I see what you are. You're not a human at all.
You're a spirit of something or other--probably of one of those perky
mountains over yonder. The White Maid, I bet! You had to don my clothes
in order to materialize before my eyes and you had to use that word of
the hills--so that I could understand you. It's quite plain now and you
are welcome to my--my bath robe; I dare say that, underneath it, you are