During this recital I had been interrupted by scarcely a word. Once, when I mentioned the ice-wall, Gale had put his hands together and murmured to himself, “Oh, Lord, two thousand feet high—now I lay me!” But for the rest of the time he was quite silent and attentive, as were both of the others. Miss Gale (and it was to her that I talked), Edith Gale listened without speaking, moveless, her eyes looking straight into mine, but far beyond me, to the land of which I spoke—a land of fancy—the country of my dreams, now becoming hers. Gale turned to Mr. Sturritt as I finished. The meager face of the latter was flushed and animated. Credulous, visionary and eager, the dream had become his, too. It seemed to me that there was a quality of tenderness in Gale’s voice as he addressed him. “Well, Bill,” he said, “what do you think of it? Chance of your life, ain’t it? Think of provisioning a voyage to the South Pole. Why, you can fairly wallow in tablets!” Mr. Sturritt shifted a bit in his chair. “I think it the most wond—the most marvelous undertaking of the century,” he said eagerly, “and the most plaus—er—that is, the most logical. For my own part in it, I may say to Mr. Race—that is, Chase, that I have perfected a sort of system of food tab—I should say lozenges, that might, I believe, be found advantageous in supplying the balloon with food—that is—er—I mean the people _in_ the balloon, where space and lightness would be considerations. They are, I think I may say without claiming—taking credit, that is, for the entire originality of the idea—more nutritious and—er—more wholesome than any other food lozenge I have seen, besides being less bulk—er—I should say—more compact in form, and not so hard to—to—I mean, in fact quite easy——” “Not so hard to take,” put in Gale. “That’s right, Bill, they’re not bad at all—I’ve tried ’em. I threw a fit afterwards, but that wasn’t your fault—I didn’t take ’em right.” “Papa insisted on eating all the dessert tablets, because they were pink and flavored with wintergreen, and they made him ill,” commented Miss Gale, who seemed to waken from her reverie. “They should be taken—er—used, I mean, according to direc—that is—in proper sequence,” explained Mr. Sturritt. “White, followed by blue and red, in order to work well—to secure hygienic results, I should say. The white contains the gently stimulating nutriment of meat and bivalve juices, and is—er—the soup course, so to speak. The blue contains the solids required to supply strength, while the pink or rose wafer combines the essence of creams, fruits and nuts—the delicacies, as it were, of food diet. White, blue and red is the proper combi—er—that is—sequence, and I shall soon have other varieties.” “I thought they ought to go red, white and blue,” said Gale, “like the colors in the flag. But, see here, Johnnie, what do you think of Mr. Chase’s scheme, anyway? Ain’t it a bully chance for opening our business on a big scale?”