The possibility of this man’s being mentally wrecked, after all the lofty care which had been bestowed on him, seemed a disaster which could and should be diverted. For it was Daniel’s theory that a man who had gone through such an experience as this, should find a way to make himself of use to others tempted and tried in a like way; and that therefore he must pull through. So rising to his feet, and standing between Reginald and Ethel, he said staunchly, looking at Reginald: “Ethel, he is well now; and what I have to say is, that a man who has been so expensively educated by angels in heaven and on earth, as this Captain Reginald Grove has been, will of course be honorable and soldierly enough to review coolly all the extraordinary lessons he has learned, digesting the facts which seem confusing, and winning out of them at last an order of knowledge which will fit him to do for other needy fellows the same things which we Dakshas have done for him.” Reginald looked up with a glad, proud expectancy, now quite sure that all was right enough with him, and that he had had some unusually good thing befall him, which in some way fitted him to be quite a friend with the Dakshas, and a coworker with them in unusual lines. Then with the strong tone of one determined to get at facts, he said: “Miss Ethel, what whitened your hair since—since the day on the balcony?” “It turned white in one night. For I will tell you this: there is a world where a day is as a thousand years; and we learn fast in a few seconds there.” “And did you go to that world?” “I did,” said Ethel. “How did you get back?” “It was my inner self that went. No one looking at my outer self—my body—could have seen that I was away.” “Well,” said Reginald, after a prolonged look into her face and his own memories: “I see that you are the same old truthful young girl, who said kind words to me one day out on your balcony, all about my mother and roses, and the goodness of wealth, and that you wished, with me, that I was but five years old. Now what you say would look to some people uncommon unlikely. But—but if you don’t know about your own hair—whose hair should—” He heard an hysterical giggle. “Oh, there she is at her old tricks. There’s Mrs. Mancredo making fun of a fellow,” he said irritably. “But then, you see,” said Ethel, “she’s not been away, as you and Daniel and I have. But you will soon find your way back; we did, though it seemed unnatural at first, and we felt homesick for the upper air. Sleep now; in the morning all will seem more natural, and Mrs. Mancredo will help you.” He slept, and slept soundly. In the morning he was up early. What he wanted to see now, was Mrs. Mancredo. She seemed to him somehow to be his oldest friend; and a homesickness for old, old friends had begun to lay hold on him.