Behind the row of trees, directly across the lawn in front of him,
loomed the dark shadow of a long, low, cottage-like building, and from a
window a light twinkled out between the tree trunks; while from beyond
again came the roll of surf, low, rhythmic, like the soft accompaniment
of orchestral music.

"Wonderful!" breathed Madison. "I feel," said he, "as though I had just
had a drink!"

He walked across the lawn, passed between the trees, and reached the end
of the cottage away from where the light showed in the window.

"The Patriarch being deaf," he remarked, "I might as well explore."

From the row of trees to the cottage was perhaps twenty feet. The door
of the cottage, porticoed with trellis-work, was in the center of the
cottage itself. Everywhere Madison turned were trellis-work frames for
flowers--the walls of the cottage were covered, literally covered, with
bare, slumbering shoots of Virginia creeper. In a little while now the
place would be a veritable paradise. Madison raised his hat reverently.

"Fancy this on a New York stage!" said he esthetically, invoking the
universe. "Could you beat it! I could play the Patriarch myself with
this setting, and everybody would fall for it. There's nothing to it,
nothing to it, but his make-up--and I'll guarantee to take care of that.
And now we'll have a look at Aladdin's lamp and see just what kind of
rubbing up will invoke the genii!"

Madison walked along the length of the cottage, past the door, and, as
he reached the lighted window, drew well away from the wall--and stared