"It looks as though it had doffed a turret and were reaching down to bring the buildings below up to its own stature." The truth was, Adelaide had ordered one of the most useless and imposing turrets to be taken down as it was found to be unsafe. The Queery buildings remained intact and the grounds were greatly improved; but he saw at a glance that it was an improvement in which he and his Pyro-pieces had not been taken into account. Little children were playing on the grass, small boys and girls were running from the fountain to the garden and baby carts were being wheeled about the numerous walks. He hastened on to the mansion and rang the bell. Mary Langley opened the door and started back. "O I see that you remember me," laughed Bombs. "Is Miss Adelaide at home?" "Miss Adelaide is down at the college. Will you come in and wait for her?" "Thanks. I will wait on the veranda or roam about. I find many changes of interest." He sat down and rested from his walk while he looked out over the handsome grounds and inhaled the odor of violets and mignonette. After he had rested he went out to the brow of the hill. There was always a strong breeze on the brow of the hill; but there was something else this morning--something more stirring than the rustling leaves. There were musical sounds. His first thought was that they were from the throats of young orioles. He listened intently and heard instead of warblings, fine strains of music like those of an aeolian harp. "Yes a hundred aeolian harps!" he ejaculated and the fancy possessed him that Adelaide had taken advantage of the situation and had strung aeolian harps in the tops of the trees for the winds of heaven to play upon. He did not try to find out if it were so. If it were a delusion he preferred to enjoy it instead of dispelling it. He stood still and listened intently. Without knowing it he stood on the very spot where Mary Langley had lost her baby. He hit his toe against a stone and looking down he saw that, it was fringed with moss and bore a name and date in tiny artistic letters. The name was _Adelaide S. Langley_ and the date was _July 4th, 1902_. He knew then that he had been doubly remembered; but it was not flattering to his vanity to be remembered so strongly in this case, any more than it was to be entirely forgotten in the matter of transforming The Queery grounds into a children's park. He turned away abruptly and saw Adelaide Schwarmer coming up the hill. He knew her at a glance; but he was a trifle disappointed. His first thought was, that like the mansion she had been holding herself down to the level of the Killsbury people. "You surprise me," he said. "You have changed so very, very little." "And you do not seem to have changed at all; and yet I am not surprised." "But you were at the changeable age and I was not." "And you have been changing places and peoples and views constantly. I should think you would be changed by reflection if nothing more."