I stood, and looked me squarely in the face."

"Wasn't that rather rude--for an angel?"

"You wouldn't have thought so. She did it like a young goddess with the
supreme prerogative to flash herself that way on mortals by the
roadside."

"Oh, she was a young goddess as well as an angel."

"After she had looked me in the eye a second," continued Lynde, not
heeding the criticism, "she said--what do you suppose she said?"

"How can I imagine?"

"You could not, in a thousand years. Instead of saying, 'Good-morning,
sir,' and dropping me a courtesy, she made herself very tall and said,
with quite a grand air, 'I am the Queen of Sheba!' Just fancy it. Then
she turned on her heel and ran up the road."

"Oh, that was very rude. Is this a true story, Mr. Lynde?"

"That is the sad part of it, Miss Ruth. This poor child had lost her
reason, as I learned subsequently. She had wandered out of an asylum in
the neighborhood. After a while some men came and took her back again--
on my horse, which they had captured in the road."

"The poor, poor girl! I am sorry for her to the heart. Your story began
like a real romance; is that all of it! It is sad enough."