was written: "This is our cottage. Don't you think it attractive?"

"Mrs. Hall sent me that--ah--last June--I think it was in June,"
explained Mr. Bangs, hurriedly. "But you SEE," he added, waving
an agitated hand toward the gray-shingled dwelling beneath the
silver-leafs, "that CAN'T be the house, not if"--with a wave of the
photograph in the other hand--"if THIS is."

Mr. Pulcifer took the postcard and stared at it. His brows drew together
in a frown.

"Say," he said, turning toward his passenger, "is this the house you've
been tryin' to find? This is a picture of the old Parker place over to
Wellmouth Centre. I thought you told me you wanted to be took to Joshua
Hall's house in East Wellmouth."

"Joshua? Oh, no, I'm sure I never could have said Joshua. That isn't his
name."

"Then when I said 'Josh Hall' why didn't you say so?"

"Oh, good gracious! Did you say 'Josh?' Oh, dear, that explains it; I
thought you said 'George.' My friend's name is George Hall. He is an
entomologist at the New York Museum of Natural History. I--"

"Say," broke in Raish, again, "is he a tall, bald-headed man with
whiskers; red whiskers?"

"Yes--yes, he is."