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It was Jerry, closely followed by the men he had identified as Wesley and Harper! In a moment they caught up to him and stopped. But Jerry’s first words were more surprising than his sudden appearance. They had pursued for some time the way which they judged led to the monastery, when the note of the bell returned upon the wind, and discovered to them that they had mistaken their route. After much wandering and difficulty they arrived, overcome with weariness, at the gates of a large and gloomy fabric. The bell had ceased, and all was still. By the moonlight, which through broken clouds now streamed upon the building, they became convinced it was the monastery they had sought, and the duke himself struck loudly upon the gate. “I—I think a bunch of Greasers are goin’ to raid the dam!”.

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But while remembering that we shall be none the worse tomorrow for having been happy today, we are not permitted to forget entirely the Blue-devil Sprite that awaits the dawn. The play-spell is over; the lights are out in Vanity Fair; and here in Mr. Dulac's drawing is the leader of our Christmas Chorus as he shuts up the box and the puppets—"for our play is played out." Bob was silent a moment, contrasting the life of ease he had spent with the experiences he had just listened to. Before he could speak, Jerry went on, laughing shortly. There was something else he wished to ask, but he scarcely liked to—perhaps it was silly. Well, he could ask Mother about it, though he wouldn’t ask any one else in the whole world. “And what did you see?”.