With two steps forward he offered it to the lady. As he did so he bowed with the pretentious grace of a Chesterfield advancing to the relief of Beauty. But Miss Clement recoiled. For on this handkerchief were blood stains--also mud--and green paint. Too much disgusted to think of manners, she ignored his offer and used her own handkerchief. But she shrank from replacing it in a clean pocket. Looking down at the floor she frowned. "I hope it was not you who cut those pictures from that nice book." The Vandal smiled, and nodded, giving the impression of pride in the work. "Are you the only person in the house?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am. Joanna's gone to the store." Again she frowned down at the litter on the floor. "Does your mother know what you have been doing here?" "Oh, no!" "Has she never told you not to cut up books?" "No, ma'am." Miss Clement frowned again, and stiffened a little. "And your father? Does he allow you to do such things?" "I don't know. I didn't ask him. Are you fond of pictures?" "Yes--I am fond of pictures." He got down from his chair, picked up the three engravings, came and stood beside her, leaning against her knees. He laid the pictures in her lap and asked which she liked the best. One engraving showed Joshua commanding the sun to stand still; one showed Elijah going to Heaven in his fiery chariot; and the other--she almost blushed as she looked at it--showed Susanna and the elders. Susanna wore no clothing and the elders were shocking old men. "Which do you like best?" he repeated. She pointed to Joshua. "Which next?" She pointed to Elijah. "Now--I don't care for that feller himself," he said, "but I like the pretty lady. Best of all, though, I think, is the horses and the chariot going right up into the sky. Just think of it!" he exclaimed; "just think of going way up into the sky! I think I shall do it myself! Did he really go up that way with those fat horses?" "No, I think not." "Then it's a fairy story." "No, it's a Bible story." "What's the difference?" "Bible stories are true stories and fairy tales are made-up stories." "But you just said this man didn't go up to Heaven with a span of horses." "Not in just that way--probably." "Did he go up at all?" Miss Clement hesitated. "Well--I suppose he did, perhaps." "I betcher he couldn't go up in any way like that with horses treading on nothing but air." Miss Clement had not come to this house for a theological argument. But she said nothing and merely heaved a sigh, a sigh of weariness. But the boy was still fresh. "What was this man's name?" "Elijah." "Elijah what?" "I don't think he had a last name." "Where did he live?" "Off in the East." "If any one should write him a letter, asking him how he went up that way, and addressed the envelope just Elijah, off in the Yeast--would he get it?" "Oh, no; he died long, long ago.