where in Creation--?"

Shrugging his shoulders as though to shrug aside absolutely any
possible further responsibility concerning, "little brother," Stanton
began to dig down deeper into the box. Then suddenly all the grin came
back to his face.

"And here are some sample wall papers that she sent me for 'our
house'," he confided, flushing. "What do you think of that bronze one
there with the peacock feathers?--say, old man, think of a
library--and a cannel coal fire--and a big mahogany desk--and a
red-haired girl sitting against that paper! And this sun-shiny tint
for a breakfast-room isn't half bad, is it?--Oh yes, and here are the
time-tables, and all the pink and blue maps about Colorado and Arizona
and the 'Painted Desert'. If we can 'afford it,' she writes, she
'wishes we could go to the Painted Desert on our wedding trip.'--But
really, old man, you know it isn't such a frightfully expensive
journey. Why if you leave New York on Wednesday--Oh, hang it all!
What's the use of showing you any more of this nonsense?" he finished
abruptly.

With brutal haste he started cramming everything back into place. "It
is nothing but nonsense!" he acknowledged conscientiously; "nothing in
the world except a boxful of make-believe thoughts from a make-believe
girl. And here," he finished resolutely, "are my own fiancée's
thoughts--concerning me."

Out of his blanket-wrapper pocket he produced and spread out before
the Doctor's eyes five thin letters and a postal-card.