insignificant figure, but somehow or other he was nothing of the
sort. His thin lips curved into a discontented droop. His cheeks
were hollow and his eyes shone with the brightness of the fanatic.
Arnold greeted him familiarly.

"Hullo, Isaac!" he exclaimed. "You are just in time to save Ruth
from being left all alone."

The newcomer came to a standstill. He looked the speaker over from
head to foot with an expression of growing disgust, and he spat upon
the floor.

"What livery's that?" he demanded.

Arnold laughed good-naturedly.

"Come, Isaac," he protested, "I don't often inflict it upon you, do
I? It's something that belongs to the world on the other side, you
know. We all of us have to look over the fence now and then. I have
to cross the borderland to-night for an hour or so."

Isaac threw open the door by which he had entered.

"Get out of here," he ordered. "If you were one of us, I'd call you
a traitor for wearing the rags. As it is, I say that no one is
welcomed under my roof who looks as you look now. Why, d--n it, I
believe you're a gentleman!"

Arnold laughed softly.