her father and his work, and even ventured some wise advice about fresh
air and its tonic effect. Indeed, it is a cause for wonder that she was
able at the same time to collect the material which took shape later in
that most erudite paper.

Under this invasion of youth and gaiety, the sombre, student atmosphere
became charged with a new, electric current. It was not owing solely to
Miss Bentley, however, for Sunday evening now frequently found the Candy
Man dropping in sociably to chat with Mr. Knight in his library.

In these days the Miser often sat leaning his head on his hand, a
meditative, half whimsical expression on his face, as if he found both
wonder and amusement in the chance that had so strangely brought these
young people across his threshold.

One Sunday afternoon the Pennington motor, having deposited Margaret
Elizabeth at the Vandegrift gate, with a scornful snort went on its
swift way to more select regions. It was the first really cold weather
of the season, and while she waited at the door Margaret Elizabeth
examined the thermometer, and then buried her nose in her muff.
"Dear me!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Why doesn't somebody come?"

She rang again with no uncertain touch upon the button this time, and
then, crunching across the frozen grass, peeped in at her own window,
where a glimpse of smouldering fire rewarded her. She returned to the
door to ring and rap, still with no response.

This was a most unusual state of affairs, for it was an inexorable
decree of Dr. Prue's that the telephone must never be left alone.
Somebody must have gone to sleep. The cold and the darkness deepened and