“Although I was sure that he didn’t have any colic, and that the whole thing was just a trick to get me to look in the mustard-box to find the coin, I put the plaster on, and made him stay in bed, thinking that when it got to burning that he would ’fess up.’ But he didn’t, and although he howled and writhed with the sting of it,—while I was reading him a lecture on the sin of lying,—I told the story of Ananias and Sapphira,—he stuck it out. Then, finally, my conscience wouldn’t let me torture the boy any longer, and I took the plaster off. That night while he was asleep I found his old vest, and after putting the coin in the pocket, sewed it up.” After the girls had laughed over the incident, Nathalie started homeward, her mind full of dismal forebodings in regard to Philip. “Oh, I wish I could prove in some way that he is not an impostor. But suppose he should be?” The girl came to a sudden halt. Then, with her eyes full of a strange bright light, she went on. No, she just knew that Philip was good and true. “But I must do something,” she half moaned. “For how dreadfully he will feel if he thinks that people believe him a thief; and he will soon know something is wrong, when all the girls stop taking lessons. But Nita and I will have to pretend that the season is drawing to a close,—as it is. But, O dear! he does need the money so much. And Janet,—how it will hurt her, for I am sure she cares—” the girl halted at the thought, for it seemed too sacred a thing even to whisper to herself. Then she was busy again, trying to think how she could prove that her friend was what he claimed to be. As she unconsciously uttered her thoughts aloud, by some mysterious process of thought, or strange correlation between mind and matter, before her mental vision flashed the picture of a dark wood, lighted by gleams of moonlight that filtered through the tall tree-tops. In the foreground of a forest-gloomed retreat, in front of a high rock, a man was digging in the ground, plainly seen by the yellow flickerings from a burning torch that had been stuck upright in the ground, a few feet away. Although the girl reasoned and tried to convince herself that there was no possible connection between that man and the thief at the hotel, she could not drive the impression from her mind. On going home she questioned Jean, and found that he, too, still vividly remembered the incident. That night Nathalie could not sleep, for she was haunted by the picture of the man in the woods, although she hurled every name she could think of at herself for being so foolish. The next night again found her sleepless, but when morning dawned, as if pursued and driven by the haunting vision, she called the boys together, and stated the circumstances to them. She did not tell her mother, as _she_ would say that she was losing her reason, and, well, she was determined to find out—_something_.