"But, good Lord, he still has his hearing, devilish sharp hearing." "I could talk like Mary Walden! Why, Man-Andy, always I could act and talk like others, if I wanted to. Mamsey could tell you. I used to make her laugh. Please listen——" And then in a kind of desperation Donelle made an effort, such a pitiful one, to speak in the calm, colourless tones of Mary Walden. They all wanted to laugh, even Revelle who, at the moment, entered the room, but the strained, tense look on the girl’s face restrained them. But a week later Donelle made a test. From another room she carried on quite a conversation with Law and, until she showed herself, he could have sworn he was talking to Mary Walden. "Now, then!" Donelle exclaimed, confronting him almost fiercely, "you’ve got to let me try. Mary Walden and I have worked it all out. I’m to wear a red wig and a black dress with white collar and cuffs. If the bandages should slip, and he happened at that moment to see, he wouldn’t know me. My voice is—is perfect, Man-Andy, and besides," here Donelle quivered, "I’m going to him, anyway!" "In that case," and Law shrugged his shoulders, "I’ll surrender. You’re a young wonder, Donelle." Then Law laughed, and laughs were rare treats to him those days. And that night he broke the plan to Norval in the following manner: "See here, boy, I’m willing to go on with this job of getting you on your feet provided I have my usual half holidays." "I know I’m using you up, Andy. Why not put me in a home for incurables?" "Nothing doing, Jim. They’d discover you even in this disguise." "It’s a sin not to have a law that permits the demolishing of derelicts." Norval’s chin looked grim. "So it is, but there you are!" There was a pitiful pause. Then Law brought forth his suggestions as to a certain Mary Walden. "She could read you to sleep while I daub, Jim." "She? Good heavens! What is it, a pretty young female thing yearning to do her bit?" "On the other hand, she’s as plain as a pipe stem and is an equal wage advocate. She’s red-headed," Law had seen the new wig, "dresses for her job, and is warranted to read without stopping for three hours at a stretch." "Good Lord." Norval moved uneasily. "Shall we corral her, Jim?" "Yes, run her in mornings, I can smoke and snooze afternoons, and the evenings are your best times, Andy. You’re almost human then. Yes, engage the red head." So Donelle, after a few days of further practice in mimicking Mary Walden’s calm, even voice, went to Norval. *CHAPTER XXIII* *BOTH NORVAL AND DONELLE—SEE* When Donelle stood on the threshold of Anderson Law’s studio and looked within, her courage almost deserted her. There, stretched on the steamer chair, was Norval, his eyes bandaged, his helpless legs covered by a heavy rug. He was very still and his long, thin hands were folded in a strange, definite way that seemed to say eloquently, "Finis."