"Do you suppose you could take them home--to practice on, say?" queried Clem, a sparkle in his brown eyes. "Doubtless, if I asked permission, they would allow me that privilege; why?" asked Nattie, curiously. "I have a brilliant idea!" replied Clem, gayly. "But do not be alarmed, I am used to it, as Quimby would say; it is this. I myself have a key and sounder, relics of college days, beauties, too, and if you can take home those over there, we will have telegraphic communication from your room to ours, immediately. The wire and battery I will fix all right, and when Cyn is out, and you can't come over, and at odd times, we will have some of our old chats." "But," said Nattie, hesitatingly, although evidently delighted with the idea, "Miss Kling' will never--" "Hang Miss Kling!" interrupted Clem, emphatically; "excuse the expression, but she deserves it; she never need know. I will undertake to arrange everything, and keep the secret from her. To account for the instruments in your room, tell her you are going to practice at home, and have a pupil. Cyn, I know, will be delighted to amuse herself by learning." "I should like it very much," acknowledged Nattie, "but--" "I allow no buts," Clem interrupted with gay decision; "you get the instruments, tell me the first time Miss Kling goes out to spend the day, and leave the rest to me." Nattie needed little urging, being only too willing to have some more of those old confidential chats with "C,"--which _nobody_ could share--and the required promise was given. Strange it is, how circumstances alter cases. Coming to the office that morning, Nattie had found it disagreeable and hard enough to buffet the storm, and had growled at herself all the way, because she was not smart enough to get on in the world, even so far as to be able to stay at home in such weather For storms of nature, like storms of life, are hardest to a woman, trammeled as she is in the one by long skirts, that will drag in the mud, and clothes that every gust of wind catches, and in the other by prejudices and impediments of every kind, that the world, in consideration, doubtless, for her so-called "weakness," throws in her way. But now, on her way home, Nattie minded not the wind, and rather enjoyed the rain; it may be that this total change in her sentiments was due to the fact that Clem held the umbrella. Miss Kling saw them come into the hotel together, wet and merry, and scowled. Perhaps in former days she had gone home under an umbrella with somebody--a possible other self--and so knew all about the enjoyability of the experience. But Nattie did not even notice her landlady's acrimonious glance, and sang a gay song as she changed her bedrabbled dress. Cyn, who was of course immediately informed about the projected private wire, was delighted with the idea, and began studying the Morse alphabet at once. "And the best of all is that we are going to get the better of that argus-eyed Dragon!" said Cyn.