The fact that Lisburn was trying to help little Evie soon began to be known, and the knowledge affected different people differently. Norma said that she should think Evie would be ashamed to take up so much of Mr. Lisburn's time, considering how contemptuous she had been about the whole science of psychoanalysis. The Reverend Mr. Gordon said that he had never been in any doubt that the human spirit needed the confessional, but that only a man in holy orders was fit to receive confession. The mayor was a little more violent. He said that it appeared to him that this fellow was practicing medicine without a license, and that if the law could not reach him it ought to be able to. He hoped it wasn't doing little Miss Evie any harm. Aunt Georgy tried to reassure him, and said Evie seemed in the best of health and spirits, at which the mayor, looking gloomier than ever, said he was much relieved. Aunt Georgy had just been telling this to Evie as she was about to start for her last conference. She was going away the next day. "Have you decided what it is that is hidden in the bushes?" her aunt asked her. Evie nodded. "Yes," she said; "it's a black panther--a beautiful, lithe, vigorous, graceful, dangerous wild animal." "Mercy!" exclaimed Aunt Georgy. "He'll think it's himself." "Do you think he's a vain man, Aunt Georgy?" "Everyone's as vain as that." "Well, that isn't my fault," said Evie, and went on her way. Aunt Georgy shook her head. Life was often like that, she thought--a woman despised a man for believing something that she had exercised all her ingenuity to make him believe. Lisburn was on his feet when Evie entered, and as soon as he had seen her settled in the deep chair he began to pace up and down; like a panther, she thought, but did not say so; that would have been crude. "Well," he said, fixing his black eyes on her, "you've found out what it is, haven't you?" She nodded. "You are clever," she answered. "I don't know what you'll make of it--it sounds so silly." She looked up at him, rubbing the back of one hand against the palm of the other. "It's--it's a panther; just a beautiful black panther; a splendid, lithe, graceful, dangerous wild animal." Even little Evie was susceptible at times to embarrassment, and at this moment she could not endure the piercing stare of those black eyes. She dropped her eyes modestly and murmured, "Oh, Mr. Lisburn, do you think you can help me?" "I'm sure I can," he answered; "at least, I can if I may be perfectly candid." Evie said that was all she asked--candor.