William's thoughts might have seemed to her as queer as his expression, could she have known them. They were not very definite, however, taking the form of sweet, vague pictures of the future. These pictures were of married life; that is, married life as William conceived it for himself and Miss Pratt--something strikingly different from that he had observed as led by his mother and father, or their friends and relatives. In his rapt mind he beheld Miss Pratt walking beside him “through life,” with her little parasol and her little dog--her exquisite face always lifted playfully toward his own (with admiration underneath the playfulness), and he heard her voice of silver always rippling “baby-talk” throughout all the years to come. He saw her applauding his triumphs--though these remained indefinite in his mind, and he was unable to foreshadow the business or profession which was to provide the amazing mansion (mainly conservatory) which he pictured as their home. Surrounded by flowers, and maintaining a private orchestra, he saw Miss Pratt and himself growing old together, attaining to such ages as thirty and even thirty-five, still in perfect harmony, and always either dancing in the evenings or strolling hand in hand in the moonlight. Sometimes they would visit the nursery, where curly-headed, rosy cherubs played upon a white-bear rug in the firelight. These were all boys and ready-made, the youngest being three years old and without a past. They would be beautiful children, happy with their luxurious toys on the bear rug, and they would NEVER be seen in any part of the house except the nursery. Their deportment would be flawless, and-- “WILL-EE!” The aviator struck a hole in the air; his heart misgave him. Then he came to earth--a sickening drop, and instantaneous. “WILL-EE!” There was Jane, a figurine in a plastic state and altogether disgraceful;--she came up out of the waters and stood before them with feet of clay, indeed; pedestaled upon the curbstone. “Who IS that CURIOUS child?” said Miss Pratt, stopping. William shuddered. “Was she calling YOU?” Miss Pratt asked, incredulously. “Willie, I told you you better take an umbereller,” said Jane, “instead of papa's cane.” And she added, triumphantly, “Now you see!” Moving forward, she seemed to have in mind a dreadful purpose; there was something about her that made William think she intended casually to accompany him and Miss Pratt. “You go home!” he commanded, hoarsely. Miss Pratt uttered a little scream of surprise and recognition. “It's your little sister!” she exclaimed, and then, reverting to her favorite playfulness of enunciation, “'Oor ickle sissa!” she added, gaily, as a translation. Jane misunderstood it; she thought Miss Pratt meant “OUR little sister.” “Go home!” said William. “No'ty, no'ty!” said Miss Pratt, shaking her head. “Me 'fraid oo's a no'ty, no'ty ickle dirl! All datie!” Jane advanced. “I wish you'd let me carry Flopit for you,” she said.