He stooped over her and looked into her face. It was very placid; her eyes were closed, her lips slightly apart, her cheeks faintly flushed. She was breathing easily. “She’ll do,” he said, and sank back into his seat. He drew a newspaper from his pocket, unfolded it, and began to read. He had read half way down the first sporting news column, and was deeply absorbed in his subject, when he was suddenly startled by a voice peremptorily demanding: “Who are you?” He actually sprang as he looked up from his paper to see Owlet sitting bolt upright on her sofa, regarding him with great solemn eyes, fearless and critical. He was really thrown off his mental balance for a moment. He had not expected to be brought to book by such a question from such a child. But then he did not know Owlet. He hesitated, and then, pursing up his lips, and opening his eyes very wide, he answered solemnly: “I am the Great Mogul.” “I don’t believe it,” Owlet replied, without a change of countenance. “I am also the Khan of Tartary,” he continued, gathering his brows together. “You are no such thing,” said Owlet. “Likewise the Tycoon of Japan,” he concluded, in a deep voice. “You are telling stories! And if you tell stories you will go down into the dark, dark world, where there is no sun and it is always night, and no moon nor stars, and no grass nor trees, nor even water. Oh! you better look out, and tell me the truth.” “Well, then, little monkey, I am your legal guardian, if you understand what that is.” Her look of grave reproof now changed to one of contempt. “I don’t believe you are possessed of common sense,” she said. “What!” he exclaimed, with a laugh. “Why?” “You cannot be, to tell me such a tale as that, and think I will believe you. Yes, and I know who you are, now I look at you good,” she added. “Who am I, then?” “You are the man who came to the lady’s house yesterday and made yourself a nuisance.” “A nuisance, did I?” “Yes, a horrid one. Oh, I saw you before Lady did. I saw you coming up the walk to the house. When Lady saw you she took me and Ducky in the house.” “Oh! she did?” “Yes, she did that; and she was in the right of it, too, I reckon.” “Why was she in the right of it?” “Because she knowed you, and knowed you was not possessed of common sense.” “Ah!” “Yes. And she knowed you’d do something bad, I reckon. Yes. And now I do remember all about it. I do.” “Oh, you do?” “Yes, I do that. You came up to where me and my Ducky Darling was sitting under the trees by the roadside, and I was piecing my sensible quilt, and she was playing on her music box, and you killed me.” “Killed you!” exclaimed the young man in amazement.