I catch sight of Show Off coming leisurely toward us. Has he caught the last part of the lecture, and is he, too, of a studious disposition. For raising his eyes intelligently, he continues the discourse. “Still we are made of dust!” (What can _he_ know of dust?) “Birds,” going on, “are made of trees, for their feathers are little branches. Fishes are of waterbirth—their scales little drops. Beasts of grass, with coats of grass fur. Sheep of snow wool.” I am wool gathering. “Reptiles have clod skins. We are only of the dust—marble, granite or otherwise.” I decide to read him Genesis some day. But now he speaks up more blithe. “We are going to-morrow to Aunt Roban’s house, where my mother Roba is, to get her,” winking his eye at Saucy. We are delighted as we return, all together. I look at the streets and people, not knowing I shall see them no more forever. The next morning, that is getting very late, we are placed in an open sleigh, to try the new snow, in making the trip. As it is a gala day, called Inning Day, so everybody is out. “Will everybody be at Roban’s?” I ask Show Off, who is holding Saucy by my side. “Yes, and more too, for the Traveler will be there,” he replies moodily. “Who is he, and where does he travel?” “Up in the sky on his air star.” “And what does he do up there?” I smile. “He fishes below with a line.” I look warily each side or me. “Do you like him?” “Yes, but he wants me to marry his daughter.” “Well?” “She won’t have me, as she loves my cousin, Aunt Roban’s son. Her father expects our betrothal at this time.” He stops a moment, then resumes. “He is engaged, himself, to be married to Aunt Robet, who does not dare to tell him of his coming disappointment.” “How did she, so gentle, ever fancy so douty a man?” “It was at a ride. The cavalry were going by so swift she became dizzy and was falling, when he by a deft move put her back. When he appears, ever since, she is like affected. He is coming now.” With a start, I look up to the sky, which is clear. Then I look about at the celebrators, thinking he may be come to earth, and be among them. And though I see a strange mist in the distance, I become occupied in studying the various modes of conveyance close around. Of every odd design, one vehicle is oddest. It is a round glass globe that rolls over and over, bearing its inmates upright, ballasted in the interior. It has only ladies, so I look ahead.