She bent to examine the edge of her waist, which did not in the least need attention. "You—you are very strong and brave, Harry," she murmured. IV That evening won my cause. For reasons not pertaining to this story, our wedding was hastened. The month of preparation was busy, and I am ashamed to say that I forgot Pietro and his trouble. Deborah, who never forgets anything, arranged for Beatrice's invitation to the farm. During our three years of honeymoon abroad we spoke almost daily of the child and her father. A message from the farmer asking why his guest had not appeared excited further our curiosity; and when we returned to New York I devoted my first unengaged evening to a visit at the theatre. My wife preferred to remain at home. The paintings in the foyer were a little dingy; otherwise the place seemed unchanged. I rapped upon the door of the ticket-office. A woman with a baby in her arms answered my clamor. Her figure was thick and clumsy, and her clothes were baggy. After a moment of scrutiny she shifted the baby to her left arm and extended a pudgy hand. "Welcome, Signore," she said, in a husky voice. I stared at her face. Her cheeks had encroached upon her eyes, but the depths gleamed yellow. "Beatrice!" I exclaimed. "Yes, Signore," she replied. "You not-a know? I am grow up. I am marry." "So I supposed," I stammered. "Ah—when did it——?" "Two year ago. More. My 'usband, 'e is inside. Giovanni, come 'ere." An undersized man shuffled into the foyer. His legs wavered, and one shoulder was higher than the other. "'E is tail'. 'E maka da clo'," said Beatrice, proudly. "We 'ave r-roon off, toget'er. My father, 'e is so good; 'e' ava pardon. We live all toget'er. My father lof-a da _bambino_. You will see da play? Giovanni, show de signore da good seat. No, no! No taka da ten centa." FINIS [Illustration] THE SPECTRE IN THE CART By Thomas Nelson Page I had not seen my friend Stokeman since we were at college together, longer ago than it was pleasant to think of, and now naturally we fell to talking of old times. I remembered him as a hard-headed man without a particle of superstition, if such a thing be possible in a land where we are brought up on superstition, from the bottle. He was at that time full of life and of enjoyment of whatever it brought. I found now that gravity had taken the place of the gayety for which he was then noted, and that his wild and almost reckless spirits had been tempered by the years which had passed as I should not have believed possible; for his career had been an unbroken success, and he appeared to have proved in his own case his old tenet, so arrogantly asserted, that no difficulty could exist which a man's intellect could not overcome.