Miss Harvey read it with her back to the others--then she glanced at
Mrs. Thornton--and checked herself as she was about to speak. She folded
the letter slowly and returned it to the Flopper without comment.

Robert Thornton, master of millions, hard-headed and practical for all
his youth, leaned forward in his chair toward the Flopper.

"Look here," he said bluntly, "you don't mean to say that you believe
this seriously, do you?"

"Oh, no!" said the Flopper softly. "Nothin' like dat! Of course I don't
believe it! I'm only guyin' myself--see? I'm just goin' dere fer
fun--an' spendin' me last red to get dere. Say"--his voice snapped--"wot
do youse t'ink I am, anyway?"

"Surely, Robert," said Mrs. Thornton gently, "it is evident enough that
he believes it."

Thornton did not look at her--he was still gazing at the Flopper, his
brows knitted.

"How long have you been like this?" he demanded sharply.

"All me life," said the Flopper. "I was born dat way."

"And you expect to go down here and by some means, which I must confess
is quite beyond my ability to grasp, be cured in a miraculous
manner!"--Thornton smiled tolerantly.

"Sure, I do!" asserted the Flopper doggedly. "If he's done it fer de