“Well, it's a long story. There's a young man who came here from New York last summer. He's a friend of father's, and knows you. Since they met, my father has asked me not to see or write to you until he could get some information.” “Who is the young man?” “Mr. Bonaparte Squares.” “Oh, it's Bony Squares!” I clicked. “I know him very well.” “And I know him better than I ever wished to,” she went on. “He has tried to make love to me.” “Tried to make love to you!” I exclaimed, with indignation. “I cannot believe it. Your father had better get some information about him. Tell him to write to the postmaster of Heartsdale. Any one here or at Mill Pond could tell him all about Bony. He couldn't marry you!” There was a pause of two or three seconds, and then the sounder answered, timidly: “Why?” “Because I wouldn't let him,” I said. “There's no danger,” she answered. “Except for Bony,” I flashed back. I held my ear close to the sounder for fear of missing a word. “I am too young to think of marriage.” “Until you have consulted me,” I said. “I know things that you must know before then.” “I will ask father to write to your postmaster about his friend,” she continued, as if she thought I had things to tell about Bony. “Don't let them turn you against me,” I urged. “Don't fear. If I had another horruck I would send it to you.” “I was never able to read the horruck's riddle,” I said. “Oh, you didn't know!” she exclaimed. “I thought you meant it for me.” “I cannot say until I know the message.” “But I wouldn't dare tell you. It's one thing to say it yourself, and another to speak with the horruck. You must find and study it. Goodnight! My dear old father is dozing here beside me, and doesn't dream that I am talking to you. I feel guilty, but I was afraid that you would come here.” “Don't say good-night. I'm not half through talking.” “But we mustn't say everything at once, and he is tired. We'll have another talk. Goodnight!” I closed the office, and started for my home. As I walked alone in the darkness under the singing wires, I got my first broad view of their mission. My sweetheart and I were miles apart, but that rushing power on the string of metal had almost removed the distance and helped us to understand each other. Would it not, by-and-by, remove seas and continents and make all the races of one mind, and keep them in peace and good-will? STAGE VI.--MY LAST WEEK ON THE FLYING HORSE [Illustration: 9202] EARL had invented a water-turbine, a dynamo, and a method of producing light by electricity, and many valuable devices, but had been able to patent only two of them. It is curious how, when there is universal need of a thing, men agree, without ever a word between them, that it shall be done, and nothing is so wonderful as the likeness of their energy and inspiration, as the rhythm of their hammer-strokes, the world over.