James Femms heard him as one who listens to the opaque ventriloquial speech of dreams. Dimly, remotely, but with a dawning fervor of conviction, understanding burst in upon him. He lifted his hands in a swift, furtive movement; his fingers penetrated the plush-like silky depths of Sonoff’s hair. They closed upon a surface that James Femms knew as intimately by touch as if his eyes beheld it through his worm-hole lens. Delicately, with the merciful cruelty of the surgeon, disregarding the anguished shriek of his patient, he drew forth the missing becket. A profound, shuddering sigh came from Sonoff. With hands that thrilled voluptuously at the delicious caress of that spleened surface, but still were swift and sure to their task, James Femms replaced the becket in its emplacement and stood back, his eyes intoxicated with the charm of the perfect spleen-craft, the cool, proud beauty of the hand-groined base. The ether, like a restless, moaning sea upon which an instant calm descends, was permeated with a vast, abiding peace. Sonoff clasped James Femms to him, kissed his cheeks. [Illustration: PROFILE VIEW OF THE PORTE-CHAPEAUX OF NOISETTE À CHEVAL RECONSTRUCTED AND IN USE I. The lost becket. II. Bassine ] “The pain! It is gone! Ah, mon cher Jambes des Femmes—what can I say to you—how shall I repay you?” James Femms said nothing. His eyes, held and fascinated, drank in the fragrant loveliness of the amber _noisette à cheval_, thrilled under the thin, silvery aroma of its melodious oneness. He was but distantly aware of a voice, Sonoff’s voice, far-away, elfin-sweet with the echoes of a hundred blending bells. “Keep it, Jambes des Femmes, keep it always in proof and token of my gratitude! Keep it, des Femmes, in memory of Mikail Sonoff Sonoffovitch!” James Femms did not know that he had gone. ———— A WORD ON POONING By AUGUSTULA THOMAS ———— [Illustration] A WORD ON POONING By AUGUSTULA THOMAS Note: This work would be incomplete, indeed, without a few suggestions from one-who-understands and has long been _the_ authority on pooning. Pooning is a highly technical term and may perhaps need definition for the benefit of laymen. Its significance is subtle, lying between that of “properly placing” and the sense conveyed by the Italian phrase “_Dove il dogagna_.” Many true lovers of the quaint-and-rare possess the patience and the means to make collections, but, when it comes to the tasteful _pooning_ of these, lack the connoisseur touch that is distinctive. Madame Thomas’s position as a scholarly decorator is now recognized as impeccable. Her hints will prove lambent to many a collector.—_Eds._ * * * * *