She stated that inquiry had already been made and that “old records” showed that a person by the name of Twitchell had been appointed in 1906, according to the reading of the certificate, and that while _en route_ to his prospective field of labor in an air-ship he was supposed to have come to an untimely death, as nothing had been seen or heard of him since. Further than that the official records did not go. “Now, we should be very glad to have you tell us how you came by that certificate,” she suggested. I was aghast. I was afraid to talk to her or to look about me. And the more fully I came to myself the more I felt that I did not dare to ask a question. The shock of one answer might kill me. I summoned all my strength, and spoke hurriedly, more to prevent her speaking again than to say anything. “Perhaps I can tell you something later on,” I said hoarsely. “I find my memory quite cloudy, in fact, I seem to be dreaming.” She saw my misery and suggested that I go into “the room used to cure nervousness” and that I remain as long as possible. I passed stupidly through the door she held open for me and had hardly sat down before I felt soothed. The only color visible was violet,--walls, ceiling, furniture, carpet, all violet of different shades. An artificial light of the same color filled the room. And the air!--What was there in it? A desk was at the other end of the large apartment. As my eyes roved about the strange looking place I saw on it an ordinary calendar pad, the only thing in the room that closely resembled objects I had seen before. The moment that I realized what it was I felt as though I was about to have a nervous chill. I dared not look at it, even from that distance. But the delicious air, the strength-giving light revived me in spite of myself. For full five minutes I sat there, staring, before starting over to look at it; for though I knew not who I was, and though I had passed through only two rooms of the house, and had met only one person, I had divined the truth a thousand times. As I slowly neared it I saw the day of the month, the twenty-fourth. Nearer and nearer I came, finally closing my eyes as the date of the year in the corner became _almost_ legible--just as I had done in the car of the air-ship, that awful moment. I moved a little nearer. I could read it now! I opened my eyes and glanced, then wildly tore the pads apart, to see if they were all alike--and fell to the floor once more. It was the year _two thousand and six_, just one hundred years from the date of my appointment to the position of a teacher in the South! * * * * *