She met the Serpent the following day. There was an impish, happy look of mischief on that usually savage little face. Miss Meredith had been retailing to her mamma the terrific alarm which the Leightons had experienced on the previous evening. She met Elma full face and the smile on her lips died. "Why did you do it?" asked Elma bluntly as though she had known the Serpent all her life. The Serpent glared blandly at Elma, then fiercely resumed her ordinary pose. "You came to my house, or your mother did, to take me out of myself--charity-child sort of visit, you know. I heard of that, never mind how. I came to you to take you out of yourselves. I rather fancy I did it--didn’t I?" The ice of reserve had been broken at last and the Serpent was stinging in earnest. Elma could only gaze at her. "You think I’m a kind of ’case,’ I suppose. Some one to feel good and generous over. Just because my hair is coming out in patches. Well, it’s stopped coming out in patches but I still have a few calls to pay." "Weren’t you afraid last night?" asked Elma in complete wonder. They had moved into a shadow against the wall. "Afraid," blazed the Serpent, and then she trembled as though she would fall. "Don’t," cried Elma sharply, "don’t faint." "I nearly did--last night. I nearly did. It was dreadful going home. Who knows that it was I who was there?" "I do," said Elma, "that’s all." "Don’t tell a soul," wailed the burglar. "You won’t, will you? I know it was awful of me, but such fun up to the moment, when--when I heard them moving inside. Then my legs grew so weak and it was like a dream where you can’t get away. You shouldn’t have called me the Serpent." "We didn’t," said Elma. "Not in the way you mean. But because you seemed to know about animals in a queer way--like Elsie Venner. Lance said she was half a snake, but just because she knew about snakes. It’s difficult to explain." "Lance?" asked the Serpent. "Yes, why don’t you speak to Lance now and then?" "I pay him a higher compliment," said the queer little Serpent. "I wore his clothes last night." "Oh," said Elma. "Oh! yet you could faint to-day--or nearly so." "Isn’t it wicked," said the Serpent. "A boy wouldn’t have given in. They do much worse, and don’t give way at the knees, you know. I only opened the window and threw in the note. It was nothing. I meant you just to be puzzled. I was there early and couldn’t find a suitable window or a door, so I waited till the maids went to bed. They left a little window half open." "Mamma ought to dismiss cook," said Elma primly.