“No, _me’um_! Please, Glen, don’t yo’ take hit away! I crave to read hit ’twel I know hit from kiver to kiver! And this hyar is the ’citingest part!” “What’s happening, Glory?” “Oh ...” she emitted a little squeal of thrilled delight, “the Prince, he’s jes’ a-riding up to the Ogre’s Castle!” It was at that very instant, making Gloriana-Virginia a prophet once removed, that M’liss’ Tolliver slouched into the superintendent’s office. “Feller out thar wants in,” she stated laconically. “Who is he?” “Didn’t say.” “Well, you tell him we don’t admit visitors. If he’s got business, let him name it.” He turned again to the inter-phone and reviled the engine room savagely. M’liss’, pausing long enough for a generous sniff of snuff, trailed out again, to return presently with the ghost of a grin on her lackluster face. “Feller says to name hit to yo’ that his business is pleasure.” “Tell him to go to the devil!” “Gime this hyar kyard,” she drawled, producing a small square of pasteboard with its block letters faintly embossed. “Said he ’lowed mebbe hit’d be the Open Sessymer--whatever that is.” Luke Manders, still at the telephone, reached for it with his free hand. “Good God A’mighty!” he gasped. “Is that who ’tis?” Miss Tolliver allowed herself a brief excursion in mirth. “Acts uppity ’nuff to be!” “Ask him in! Tell him to come in, you fool! What are you waiting for? Bring him here. No--wait--” he looked hastily about the cluttered old office, and frowned. “Ask him to sit down in the front entrance, there--take out a chair for him. Tell him I’ll be with him in ten minutes--five minutes! And hurry up!” He almost pushed her out of the room, but in a surprisingly short interval, considering her rate of speed, she was back again. “Feller’s gone.” “Gone? Gone where?” “How in time’d I know? Jes’ plain up’n went.” She bent suddenly and spat through the window. “You took all night to--” he began roughly, and then he relaxed, sitting down in the swivel chair at his desk as heavily as Mr. ’Gene Carey might have done, and wiping his brow and his wrists with his handkerchief. “All right. You can go. Get _out_!” Glen Darrow, meanwhile, returning by way of the spinning room, found a stranger in light and pleasant converse with Gloriana-Virginia Tolliver, who was smiling at him wanly and shyly. He was a very young man, she saw at a glance, and his slimness and extreme fairness increased the boyishness--the almost childishness--of his appearance. He was dressed all in spotless white, save for the bright blue of his cravat, and he looked cool and serene in contrast to the palely sweating Glory. “Yes,” he was saying cordially, “I certainly do like fairy tales, and I believe ’em, too! I’ve known the most amazing things to happen!” “Yes, suh!” Her wise, kind little monkey face regarded him with respectful friendliness. She was lightly dusted with lint and wisps of thread hung here and there on her dress.