that the escapade of a week was tacitly forgotten. The only
allusion ever made to the bridegroom's peculiarities was drawn from
the demure lips of the bride herself on her installation at the
"Blessed Innocents."

"And what, little one, didst thou find in me to admire?" Don Jose
had asked tenderly.

"Oh, you seemed to be so much like that dear old Don Quixote, you
know," she answered demurely.

"Don Quixote," repeated Don Jose with gentle gravity. "But, my
child, that was only a mere fiction--a romance, of one Cervantes.
Believe me, of a truth there never was any such person!"



A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL


I.


As Mr. Herbert Bly glanced for the first time at the house which
was to be his future abode in San Francisco, he was somewhat
startled. In that early period of feverish civic improvement the
street before it had been repeatedly graded and lowered until the
dwelling--originally a pioneer suburban villa perched upon a slope
of Telegraph Hill--now stood sixty feet above the sidewalk,
superposed like some Swiss chalet on successive galleries built in