"These damned Things." Freddie came back. The poise of him! He laughed, with an odd, strained break; but still he laughed. "God! It's queer! But it's nothing. Hold steady, everyone." His laughter seemed contagious; I heard myself laughing. Was this madness stealing upon me? A chaos of the undefinable, jostling us. A wild chaos of unreality in which my confused senses seemed whirling away-- "Peter!" Ah! Reality at last! Father's anxious voice, husky with emotion! "Peter! Oh, Frederick? Dan? Are you all right?" Solidity, reality returned; my whirling senses came back. Father was here! The solid thump of his heavy step sounded; the solid glow of the purple light he was carrying filled our room. The reality of his voice; his step; and then his arms were around my shoulders! And Hulda's happy, welcoming laughter. I kissed her; held the reality of her dear little body in my arms; and all the red shadows and crimson whisperings of a moment before were forgotten. Then came another voice--timorous, gentle, eagerly friendly; and a dear figure in the doorway. Zetta! Her dear, quaint voice which for all these months had been ringing in the ears of my memory, was sounding now in reality at last! CHAPTER XI "UNDER GARDENS" "Well!" said father. "Well, you did come safely, didn't you? I'm so glad, Peter. Light your light, Frederick. Well, Dan! I'm mighty glad to see you. Here's Hulda! Come here, child--here is your Dan, at last!" Freddie snapped on our light. Even in the confusion of our joyous greetings I was aware of how strange father and Hulda looked. Father wore his hair, snow-white now, in a long, thick, shaggy mass about his ears; a smooth and glossy black animal skin was draped about him, with a white decoration on his chest; his arms and legs were bare, with skin sandals on his feet! And Hulda! Her brown hair was shot now with pure-white strands. It fell in waves upon her bare white shoulders, where her filmy robe of light-brown silken fabric was caught with gay red ribbons. The robe hung in folds nearly to her knees. I have seen pictures of the maidens of ancient Greece. Hulda looked like that. Thongs of red crossed her breast, bound her waist and hung dangling at her knees with tasseled ends. Her legs were bare. Her feet in sandals like father's, but with pointed toes, the heel cut away, and thongs of red crossing her instep. Her right arm was bare; but on the left, her wrist was bound with a red ruching. Dan had infolded her in his first hungry embrace, kissing her without thought of the rest of us, until she cried for breath. Then he held her off. She was gasping, and laughing. "Do I--look so queer? Dan, don't you like my looks? Don't you--like me--" "Like you?" His great arms would have wrapped her up again, but she fended him off. She was radiant; I can imagine how Dan felt; I had never seen Hulda half so beautiful. She was blushing; she laughed at him archly.