"Charmed, I'm sure." The Mystery Man of the mountains placed a hand over his heart and made a profound bow. He then sat down. "Cream and sugar in the coffee, please. Thank you. I caught the odor of this coffee before I rounded the upper corner of the cornfield. My nose frequently leads me to the good things of earth, and what I don't then see with my own eyes, the eyes in my case do." "I would give almost anything to be able to talk a blue streak the way you do," exclaimed Emma so earnestly that her companions nearly choked with laughter, and that left the Mystery Man with laughter instead of words on his lips. "Yes, but greater even than the gift of gab, is the gift of 'con-centration,'" twinkled Jeremiah Long. "How did you know about that?" demanded Emma, looking her amazement. "How did I know? My dear young woman, the essence sent out by 'con-centration' is an imponderable quantity--" "Imponderable?" wondered Miss Dean. "I like that word, and, though I don't know what it means, it sounds good." "As I was saying, the waves sent out by your 'con-centrating' may have, like the wireless waves, been picked up by my own delicate mental mechanism and--" "In other words, Miss Dean overshot the mark she aimed at," interjected Hippy. "Well, something like that, I should say," chuckled the Mystery Man. "Is there anything you do not know?" wondered Anne Nesbit. "You are a mighty fortunate man, I should say," declared Hippy. "Think what the result would have been had that 'imponderable quantity' hit you fair and square. Why, it would have blown you to atoms--molecules and--" "Suppose we change the subject," suggested Grace Harlowe. "Show us your wares, won't you, Mr. Long?" The visitor got up, and, fetching his case, opened it, revealing great numbers of shining spectacles, beads and other shoddy adornments. "We will now fit you to glasses, those of you who need them." "You, of course, know how to examine eyes?" nodded Elfreda. "Oh, no. I 'fit' the bows to the ears," answered Mr. Long. "Yes, but aren't you afraid you will ruin the eyes of the persons you fit glasses to?" questioned Grace. The Mystery Man smiled. "I never heard of a person's eyes being ruined by looking through a window," he made reply, raising a merry laugh. "I'll fit you to smoked glasses to protect your eyes from the sun. They won't cost you anything. Neither did they cost me anything. I want my wares known in every home in the mountains, and I want every man, woman and child, and babe in arms, to be seeing things through my eyes, and I'll accomplish it if the window glass holds out." "Of course we expect to pay you," began Grace. "Not a cent, not a cent. I should say it might be wise to have them--the glasses--well smoked up like a ham, for there may be doings up here that it were the part of wisdom for you folks not to see. Do the bows fit, Mrs. Gray?" he asked, adjusting a pair of specs to her ears. "I--I think so."