"The red, Dan." She indicated her tassels, and the ruching at her left wrist. "You see, I wear it--for you. The sign that I am spoken for, and pledged to a man." "Wonderful, Frederick, that you all got through so safely." Father turned with Freddie, to me. "Frederick, you must meet Zetta--Peter, have you seen Zetta? There she is--come in, child." Zetta was dressed very much as on earth I had last seen her. She stood lingering in the vehicle doorway, eager to see us, but reluctant to encroach on our family greetings. At father's words, she now shyly approached. I stammered, "Zetta, I'm--very glad to see you again." "How do you do, Peter." She held out her hand, and I took it. A confusion was upon me. This moment for which I had longed, came, and passed. Perhaps, as once before, the barriers of conventionality rose instinctively to hold my emotion in check. I think it was so with Zetta, too. Our fingers barely touched; but my heart pounded harder, for I heard her murmur, "Be--careful, Peter. Be ver' careful!" A warning against the power between us! Then I met her glance as she eyed me sidewise. A roguish, impish look. This was a new Zetta--here upon her own world, her real self. Little imp, mocking my confusion with glee! She turned away, toward Freddie. "And this is Fred'rick? I am ver' pleas' to meet so good a frien'." I saw leaping into Freddie's eyes a swift surprise as he neared her, took her hand and shook it cordially. Freddie's nature, from mine, or from Dan's, is wholly different. Whatever surprise he felt, he gave no further sign; shook her hand heartily, grinned at her, and swung on me. "Say, she's a little beauty, isn't she, Peter?" The old Freddie, relieved now of the responsibility of commanding our voyage, his characteristic breezy boyishness came back to him. I had not seen him in this way since the first dreadful days of the Great Change came upon us. He added, "You and I are going to be great friends, Zetta." Her gaze on him was full of undisguised admiration. "Yes," she agreed. "I think so, too." We were ready to start. "Leave everything," said father. "I'll have it guarded, and we're not going far." He took his lantern; shook it. It seemed to be a translucent animal-bladder, possibly, filled with small objects that rattled. The light from it was a glow of phosphorescence. He held it aloft. "This light is bad. Zetta, fix this up, will you? Can't they do better than this?" Strange thoughts to spring to my mind! As Zetta took the lantern, held it near her face, I fancied that she murmured to it. And as though in answer to her command, the purple light grew stronger! I fancied so. "Thanks," said father. "Give it to me. I'll lead the way. Put out your light, Frederick. You lads took your landing very well. Strange and disturbing--this unreality just beyond our reach--isn't it, Peter? You'll grow used to it--you'll forget it."