"She ate it up. You see, Brown, that smart Stevens man, who laid out this job, went around to where Mary kept her little lamb and sheared it every once so often. He gave the wool to our swellest tailor and had him make it up into an extra fancy line of trousering. The best people bought those trousers, and of course everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go. You can see why she had so much good company. The fellows simply couldn't stop going to Mary's till they shed 'em. It took a mechanical engineer to do it. But when the lamb got old her pa, who had not been told about this thing, thought he'd have to eat the pet to save its mutton." "But she got married, of course, didn't she?" asked a stranger, who was en route to Europe on his wedding tour and was full of romance. "Why, no. You see, she was having such fun fishing, she never stopped till they stopped biting--that is, the snappy bass that she liked to ketch. She landed a lot, but just kept throwing back, probably waiting for some whale in the shape of a Duke to land on one of the steamers, but those Dukes that pass through Hoboken are terribly long on trousers, and generally bring 'em over by the trunk-load. They all passed right through, at any rate. Instead of a whale coming along, the next to bite were a lot of old skates--a regular lot of tramps. They had come into the trousers second hand, usually got for the asking, when preparing to start into New York for the slumming season; but, of course, they had to make for Mary's house just as soon as they put 'em on and the charm got to working. So she has been spending the balance of her life shooing away tramps. The chances are the pet lamb will never quite wear out--excuse me, gentlemen, I think I hear the bell ringing." CHAPTER XIII Gabrielle did not find it necessary to confide immediately in Hygeia, who cared for us both, but as Jim progressed more favorably than I, and was able to sit up in bed propped with pillows, he became talkative and inclined to drop remarks that might create suspicion in the mind of the nurse. Unless Hygeia became her confidante, Gabrielle feared Jim's identity might become known and his whereabouts learned by the officers of the law, who were now apparently searching for him on misleading clues. "You will be my good friend, will you not?" asked Gabrielle, as she drew Hygeia closely to her one morning about a week after our entrance to the hospital. "I want you to help me, and I know you now so well that I feel I may safely ask you to. May I?" "My dear Miss Marshall, there is nothing I will not do for you, believe me. I rejoice that your brother is showing such rapid improvement. How much more fortunate he is than the poor fellow in the next room--his friend, I believe you said?" "Yes, Mr. Hopkins is his friend. But Mr. Marshall is not my brother, and--"