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"I wonder if she is in the modeling class?" she said as she caught up with Elinor in the composition room. "I don't suppose there's any such luck as that. She looks too clean——" "Now hold your breath as long as you can," he commanded, and it fitted my mood exactly to do so. "Oh, do tell me all about it," she pleaded, and Bruce, with his customary good nature, launched into a very diverting account of the habits and customs of the Flemings and the year spent among them in his student days..

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Among the palms and costly rugs that backgrounded a marvelous regal dais occupying one long end of the great room, sat the glittering figure of the portly Haroun-al-Raschid, Sultan of Bagdad and husband of many lovely wives, whose multi-colored costumes made a glowing garden on the rugs at the foot of the dais, while on the embroidered cushions at the side of the monarch a lovely Scheherazade in shimmering white satin with strings of glistening gems in her hair, on her breast, on her arms and ankles, made an alluring picture of the new-made bride. Tall palms reared their stately fronds above the group and slave girls, with fierce Nubians in attendance, waited in mute homage at either side of the throne. Lamps of brass glittered in the alcoves back of the great dais, and above it all the roofs and minarets of the ancient city gloomed in the moonlight of the thousand and second night. "All those came from Ashantee and the West Coast of Africa," said he, touching a vicious-looking axe. "This is a sacrificial axe; this murderous looking blade is the sword of the executioner of King Koffee; and this," here he laid his fingers lightly upon a slender stick of green wood, with a golden top set roughly with large turquoise stones, "is a poison-wand!" "Bah! I heard that in court." CHAPTER VIII. A CRY IN THE NIGHT..