 The Album by Anton Chekhov. Translation by Konstantz Garnett. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to learn how to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Album by Anton Chekhov. Kraterov, the titular counselor, as thin and slender as the admiralty spire, stepped forward and, addressing Smayov, said, Your Excellency, moved in touch to the bottom of our hearts by the way you have ruled us during long years, and by your fatherly care, during the course of more than ten years," During the course of more than ten years, we, your subordinates, on this so memorable for us day, beg Your Excellency to accept, in token of our respect and profound gratitude, this album with your portraits in it, and express our hope that for the duration of your distinguished life, that for long, long years to come, to your dying day you may not abandon us. With your fatherly guidance on the path of justice and progress," added Zakushin, wiping from his brow the perspiration that had suddenly appeared on it, he was evidently longing to speak, and in all probability had a speech already. And, he wound up, may your standard fly for long, long years in the career of genius, industry and social self-consciousness. A tear trickled down the wrinkled left cheek of Smayov. Gentlemen, he said in a shaking voice, I did not expect. I had no idea that you were going to celebrate my modest jubilee. I am touched indeed, very much so. I shall not forget this moment to my dying day. And believe me, believe me, friends, that no one is so desirous of your welfare as I am. And if there has been anything, it was for your benefit. Smayov, the actual civil councillor, kissed the titular councillor Kraterov, who had not expected such an honour, and turned pale with delight. Then the chief made a gesture that signified that he could not speak for emotion and shed tears as though an expensive album had not been presented to him, but on the contrary, taken from him. Then, when he had a little recovered and said a few more words full of feeling and, given everyone his hand to shake, he went downstairs amid loud and joyful cheers, got into his carriage and drove off, followed by their blessings. As he sat in his carriage he was aware of a flood of joyous feelings such as he had never known before, and once more he shed tears. At home new delights awaited him. There his family, his friends and acquaintances had prepared him such an ovation that it seemed to him that he really had been of very great service to his country and that if he had never existed his country would perhaps have been in a very bad way. The jubilee dinner was made up of toasts, speeches and tears. In short Smayov had never expected that his merits would be so warmly appreciated. Gentlemen, he said before the dessert, two hours ago I was recompensed for all the sufferings a man has to undergo, who is the servant, so to say, not of routine, not of the letter, but of duty. Through the whole duration of my service I have constantly adhered to the principle the public does not exist for us, but we for the public. And today I received the highest reward. My subordinates presented me with an album. See? I was touched. Festive faces bent over the album and began examining it. It's a pretty album, said Smayov's daughter Olya. It must have cost fifty rubles. I do believe. Oh, it's charming. You must give me the album, Papa. Do you hear? I'll take care of it. It's so pretty. After dinner Olya carried off the album to her room and shut it up in her table drawer. Next day she took the clerks out of it, flung them on the floor and put her school friends in their place. German uniforms made way for white pelarines. Kolja, his excellency's little son, picked up the clerks and painted their clothes red. Those who had no mustaches he presented with green mustaches and added brown beers to the beardless. When there was nothing left to paint he cut the little men out of the cardboard, pricked their eyes with a pin and began playing soldiers with them. When he found the titular counselor Kredorov, he fixed him on a matchbox and carried him in that state to his father's study. Papa, a monument. Look! Smayov burst out laughing, lurched forward and looking tenderly at the child, gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. There you old rogue, go and show Mama. Let Mama look too. End of The Album by Anton Chekhov. Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake. This recording is in the public domain. A Fable by Mark Twain. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carol White. A Fable by Mark Twain. Once upon a time an artist who had painted a small and very beautiful picture placed it so that he could see it in the mirror. He said, this doubles the distance and softens it and it is twice as lovely as it was before. The animals out in the woods heard of this through the house-cat who was greatly admired by them because he was so learned and so refined and civilized and so polite and high-bred and could tell them so much which they didn't know before and were not certain about afterward. They were much excited about this new piece of gossip and they asked questions so as to get it a full understanding of it. They asked what a picture was and the cat explained. It is a flat thing, he said, wonderfully flat, marvellously flat, enchantingly flat and elegant and oh so beautiful. That excited them almost to a frenzy and they said they would give the world to see it. Then the bear asked, what is it that makes it so beautiful? It is the looks of it, said the cat. This filled them with admiration and uncertainty and they were more excited than ever. Then the cow asked, what is a mirror? It is a hole in the wall, said the cat, you look in it and there you see the picture and it is so dainty and charming and ethereal and inspiring in its unimaginable beauty that your head turns round and round and you almost swoon with ecstasy. The ass had not said anything yet. He now began to throw doubts. He said there had never been anything as beautiful as this before and probably wasn't now. He said that when it took a whole basket full of sesquipedalian adjectives to whoop up a thing of beauty it was time for suspicion. It was easy to see that these doubts were having an effect upon the animals so the cat went off, offended. The subject was dropped for a couple of days but in the meantime curiosity was taking a fresh start and there was a revival of interest perceptible. Then the animals assailed the ass for spoiling what could possibly have been a pleasure to them on a mere suspicion that the picture was not beautiful without any evidence that such was the case. The ass was not troubled. He was calm and said there was one way to find out who was in the right, himself or the cat. He would go and look in that hole and come back and tell what he found there. The animals felt relieved and grateful and asked him to go at once which he did. But he did not know where he ought to stand and so through error he stood between the picture and the mirror. The result was that the picture had no chance and didn't show up. The cat returned home and said. The cat lied. There was nothing in that hole but an ass. There wasn't a sign of a flat thing visible. It was a handsome ass and friendly but just an ass and nothing more. The elephant asked. Did you see it good and clear? Were you close to it? I saw it good and clear. Oh, hothy king of beasts. I was so close that I touched noses with it. This is very strange, said the elephant. The cat was always truthful before, as far as we could make out. Let another witness try. Go blue, look in the hole, and come and report. So the bear went. When he came back he said. Both the cat and the ass have lied. There was nothing in the hole but a bear. Great was the surprise and puzzlement of the animals. Each was now anxious to make the test himself and get at the straight truth. The elephant sent them one at a time. First the cow. She found nothing in the hole but a cow. The tiger found nothing in it but a tiger. The lion found nothing in it but a lion. The leopard found nothing in it but a leopard. The camel found a camel and nothing more. The hothy was wroth and said he would have the truth if he had to go and fetch it himself. When he returned he abused his whole subjectory for liars and was in an unappeasable fury with the moral blindness of the cat. He said anybody but a nearsighted fool could see that there was nothing in the hole but an elephant. Moral by the cat. You can find in a text whatever you bring if you will stand between it and the mirror of your imagination. You may not see your ears but they will be there. End of A Fable by Mark Twain. Gabriel Ernest by Sackie. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Christopher Hart on March 19th, 2008 in Ottawa, Ontario. There is a wild beast in your woods said the artist Cunningham as he was being driven to the station. It was the only remark he had made during the drive but as Van Chiel had talked incessantly his companion silence had not been noticeable. A stray fox or two in some resident weasels nothing more formidable said Van Chiel. The artist said nothing. What did you mean about a wild beast said Van Chiel later when they were on the platform? Nothing. My imagination. Here is the train said Cunningham. That afternoon Van Chiel went for one of his frequent rambles through his woodland property. He had stuffed a bittern in his study and knew the names of quite a number of wildflowers so his aunt had possibly some justification describing him as a great naturalist. At any rate he was a great walker. It was his custom to take mental notes of everything he saw during his walks. Not so much for the purpose of assisting contemporary science but to provide topics for conversation afterwards. When the blue whales began to show themselves in flower he made a point of informing everyone of the fact. The season of the year might have warmed his hearers of the likelihood of such an occurrence but at least they felt he was being absolutely frank with them. What Van Chiel saw in this particular afternoon was, however, something far removed from his ordinary range of experience. On a shelf of smooth stone overhanging in the hollow of an oak corpus a boy of about sixteen layers sprawl drying his wet brown limbs luxuriously in the sun. His wet hair, parted by a recent dive, lay close to his head and his light brown eyes so light that there was an almost tigerish gleam in them were turned towards Van Chiel with a certain lazy watchfulness. It was an unexpected apparition and Van Chiel found himself engaged in the novel process of thinking before he spoke. Where on earth could this wild-looking boy hail from? The miller's wife had lost a child some two months ago supposed to have been swept away by the mill race but that had been a mere baby, not a half-grown lad. What are you doing there? he demanded. Obviously, sunning myself, replied the boy. Where do you live? Here, in these woods. You can't live in the woods, said Van Chiel. They are very nice woods, said the boy, with a touch of patronage in his voice. But where do you sleep at night? I don't sleep at night. That's my busiest time. Van Chiel began to have an irritated feeling that he was grappling with a problem that was alluding him. What do you feed on? he asked. Flesh, said the boy, and he pronounced the word with slow relish as though he were tasting it. Flesh, what flesh? Since it interests you, rabbits, wildfowl, hares, poultry, lambs in their season, children when I can get any, they're usually too well locked in at night when I do most of my hunting. It's quite two months since I tasted child flesh. Ignoring the chafing nature of the last remark, Van Chiel tried to draw the boy on the subject of possible poaching operations. You're talking rather through your hat when you speak of feeding on hairs. Considering the nature of the boy's toilet, the simile was hardly an apt one. Our hillside hairs aren't easily caught. At night I hunt on four feet, with a somewhat cryptic response. I suppose you mean that you hunt with a dog. Hazard at Van Chiel. The boy rolled slowly over onto his back and laughed a weird, low laugh that was pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like a snarl. I don't fancy any dog would be very anxious for my company, especially at night. Van Chiel began to feel that there was something positively uncanny about the strange-eyed, strange-tongued youngster. I can't have you saying in these woods, he declared authoritatively. I fancy you'd rather have me here than in your house, said the boy. The prospect of this wild, nude animal in Van Chiel's primally-ordered house was certainly an alarming one. If you don't go, I shall have to make you, said Van Chiel. The boy turned like a flash, plunged into the pool, and in a moment had flung his wet and glistening body halfway up the bank where Van Chiel was standing. In an order the movement would not have been remarkable. In a boy, Van Chiel found it sufficiently startling. His foot slipped as he made an involuntary backward movement, and he found himself almost prostrate on the slippery weed-grown bank, with those tigerish yellow eyes not very far from his own. Almost instinctively he half raised his hand to his throat. The boy laughed again, a laugh in which the snarl had nearly driven out the chuckle, and then, with another of his astonishing lightning movements, plunged out of view into a yielding tangle of weed and fern. What an extraordinary wild animal, said Van Chiel as he picked himself up. And then he recalled Cunningham's remark, there is a wild beast in your woods. Walking slowly homeward, Van Chiel began to turn over in his mind various local occurrences, which might be traceable to the existence of this astonishing young savage. Something had been thinning the game in the woods lately. Poultry had been missing from the farms. Hares were growing unaccountably scarcer, and complaints had reached him of lambs being carried off bodily from the hills. Was it possible that this wild boy was really hunting the countryside in company with some clever poacher dog? He had spoken of hunting four-footed by night, but then again he had hinted strangely at no dog caring to come near him, especially at night. It was certainly puzzling. And then, as Van Chiel ran his mind over the various depredations that had been committed during the last month or two, he came suddenly to a dead stop, a likeness walk and his speculations. The child missing from the mill two months ago, the accepted theory was that it had tumbled into the mill race and had been swept away. But the mother had always declared she had heard a shriek on the hillside of the house in the opposite direction from the water. It was unthinkable, of course. But he wished that the boy had not made that uncanny remark about child flesh eaten two months ago. Such dreadful things should not be said even in fun. Van Chiel, contrary to his usual want, did not feel disposed to be communicative about his discovery in the wood. His position as a parish counselor and justice of the peace seemed somehow compromised by the fact that he was harboring the integrity of such doubtful repute on his property. There is even a possibility that a heavy bill of damages for raided lambs and poultry might be laid at his door. At dinner that night he was quite unusually silent. Where has your voice gone to, said his aunt? One would think you had seen a wolf. Van Chiel, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought the remark rather foolish. If he had seen a wolf on his property, his tongue would have been extraordinarily busy with the subject. At breakfast next morning Van Chiel is conscious that his feeling of uneasiness regarding yesterday's episode had not wholly disappeared. And he resolved to go by train to the neighbouring cathedral town, hunt up Cunningham, and learn from him what he had really seen that had prompted the remark about a wild beast in the woods. With this resolution taken, his usual cheerfulness partially returned, and he hummed a bright little melody as he sauntered the morning room for his customary cigarette. As he entered the room the melody made way abruptly for a pious invocation. Gracefully a sprawl in the Ottoman, in an attitude of almost exaggerated repose, was the boy of the woods. He was drier than when Van Chiel had last seen him, but no other alteration was noticeable in his toilet. How dare you come here, seriously. You told me I was not to stay in the woods, said the boy calmly. But not to come here, supposing my answer should see you. And with a view to minimising that catastrophe, Van Chiel hastily obscured as much of his unwelcome guest as possible under the fold of a morning post. At that moment his aunt entered the room. This is a poor boy who has lost his way and lost his memory. He doesn't know who he is or where to explain to Van Chiel desperately, glancing apprehensively at the waves' face to see whether he was going to add inconvenient candor to his other savage propensities. Miss Van Chiel was enormously interested. Perhaps his utter linen is marked, she suggested. He seems to have lost most of that too, said Van Chiel, making frantic little grabs in the morning post to keep it in its place. A naked homeless child appealed to Van Chiel as warmly as a stray kitten or a derelict puppy would have done. When he must do all we can for him, she decided, and in very short time messenger, dispatched to the rectory where a paged boy was kept, had her turned with a suit of pantry clothes and the necessary accessories of shirts, shoes, collar, etc. Clothed, clean, and groomed, the boy lost none of his uncanniness in Van Chiel's eyes, but his aunt found him sweet. We must call him something till we know who he really is, she said. Gabriel Ernest, I think. Those are nice suitable names. Van Chiel agreed. But he privately doubted whether they were being grafted on to a nice suitable child. His misgivings were not diminished by the fact that his state and elderly spaniel had bolted out of the house at the first incoming of the boy and now obstinately remained shivering and yapping at the farther end of the orchard, while the canary, usually as vocally industrious as Van Chiel himself, had put himself on an allowance of frightened sheeps. More than ever he was resolved to consult Cunningham without loss of time. As he drove off to the station his aunt was arranging that Gabriel Ernest should help her to entertain the infant members of her Sunday school class that afternoon. Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative. My mother died of some brain trouble he explained, so you will understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly fantastic nature that I may see or think that I have seen. But what did you see persisted Van Chiel? What I thought I saw was something so extraordinary that no really sane man could dignify it with the credit that happened. I was standing, the last evening I was with you, half hidden in the hedge growth by the orchard gate, watching the dying glow of the sunset. Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a bather from some neighboring pool I took him to be, who was standing out on the bare hillside also watching the sunset. His pose was so suggestive of some wild fawn of pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him another moment I think I should have hailed him but just then the sum dipped out of view and all the orange and pink slid out of the landscape leaving it cold and gray and at the same moment an astounding thing happened. The boy vanished too. What? Vanished away into nothing? asked Van Chiel excitedly. No, that is the dreadful part of it answered the artist. On the open hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago stood a large wolf blackish in color with gleaming fangs and cruel yellow eyes. You may think. But Van Chiel did not stop for anything as futile as thought. Already he was tearing at top speed towards the station. He dismissed the idea of a telegram. Gabriel earnest as a werewolf was a hopelessly inadequate effort at conveying the situation and his aunt would think it was a code message to which he had omitted to give her the key. His one hope was that he might reach home before sundown. The cab which he charged at the other end of the railway journey bore him with what seemed exasperating slowness along the country roads, which were pink and mauve at the flush of the sinking sun. His aunt was putting away some unfinished jams and cake when he arrived. Where as Gabriel earnest he almost screamed. He was taking the little tube child home said his aunt. He was getting so late I thought it wasn't safe to go back alone. What a lovely sunset, isn't it? But Van Chiel, although not oblivious of the glow in the western sky, did not stay to discuss its beauties. At a speed for which he was scarcely geared he raced along the narrow lane that led to the home of the tubes. On one side ran the swift current of the mill stream. On the other rose the stretch of bare hillside. A dwindling rim of red sun showed still on the skyline the next turning must bring him in view of the ill-assorted couple he was pursuing. Then the color went suddenly out of things and a gray light settled itself with a quick shiver over the landscape. Van Chiel heard a shrill wail of fear and stopped running. Nothing was ever seen again of the tube child or Gabriel earnest. But the ladders' discarded garments were found lying in the road. So it was assumed the child had fallen into the water but the boy had stripped and jumped in in a vain endeavour to save it. Van Chiel and some workmen who were nearby at the time testified to having heard her child scream loudly just near the spot where the clothes were found. Mrs. Toup who had eleven other children was decently resigned to her bereavement. But Miss Van Chiel sincerely mourned her lost foundling. It was on her initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish church too. Gabriel earnest an unknown boy who bravely sacrificed his life for another. Van Chiel gave way to his aunt in most things but he flatly refused to subscribe to the Gabriel earnest memorial. End of Gabriel earnest by Saki. The recording by Neil Donnelly. A Ghost by Guy de Maupassant. We were speaking of sequestration alluding to a recent lawsuit. It was at the close of a friendly evening in a very old mansion in the rue de Grinnell and each of the guests had a story to tell which he assured us was true. Then the old Marquis de la Trinidad 82 years of age rose and came forward to lean on the mantelpiece. He told the following story in his slightly quavering voice. I also have witnessed a strange thing so strange that it has been the nightmare of my life. It happened 56 years ago and yet there is not a month when I do not see it again in my dreams. From that day I have born a mark, a stamp of fear that you understand. Yes, for ten minutes I was a prey to terror in such a way that ever since a constant dread has remained in my soul. Unexpected sounds chill me to the heart, objects which I can ill distinguish in the evening shadows make me long to flee. I am afraid at night. No, I would not have owned such a thing before reaching my present age but now I may tell everything. One may fear imaginary dangers at 82 years old but before actual danger I have never turned back adams. That affair so upset my mind filled me with such a deep mysterious unrest that I never could tell it. I kept it in that inmost part that corner where we conceal our sad, our shameful secrets all the weaknesses of our life which cannot be confessed. I will tell you that strange happening just as it took place with no attempt to explain it. Unless I went mad for one short hour it must be explainable though. Yet I was not mad and I will prove it to you. Imagine what you will. Here are the simple facts. It was in 1827 in July. I was quartered with my regiment in Rouen. One day as I was strolling on the quay I came across a man I believed I recognized. Though I could not place him with certainty I instinctively went more slowly ready to pause. The stranger saw my impulse looked at me and fell into my arms. It was a friend of my younger days of whom I had been very fond. He seemed to have become half a century older in the five years since I had seen him. His hair was white and he stooped in his walk as if he were exhausted. He understood my amazement and told me the story of his life. A terrible event had broken him down. He had fallen madly in love with a young girl and married her in a kind of dreamlike ecstasy. After a year of unalloyed bliss and unexhausted passion she had died suddenly of heart disease. No doubt killed by love itself. He had left the country on the very day of a funeral and had come to live in his hotel at Rwern. He remained there, solitary and desperate, grief slowly minding him, so wretched that he constantly thought of suicide. As I thus came across you again, I shall ask a great favor of you. I want you to go to my chateau and get some papers I urgently need. They are in the writing desk of my room, of our room. I cannot send a servant or a lawyer as the errand to drive it. I want absolute silence. I shall give you the key of the room which I locked carefully myself before leaving, and the key to the writing desk. I shall also give you a note for the gardener who will let you in. Come to breakfast with me tomorrow and we'll talk the matter over. I promised to render him that slight service. It would mean but a pleasant excursion for me, his home not being as far as from Rowan. I could go there in an hour on horseback. At ten o'clock the next day I was with him. We breakfasted alone together, yet he did not utter more than twenty words. He asked me to excuse him. The thought that I was going to visit the room where his happiness lay shattered upset him, he said. Indeed he seemed perturbed, worried as if some mysterious struggle were taking place in his soul. At last he explained exactly what I was to do. It was very simple. I was to take two packages of letters and some papers locked in the first drawer at the right of the desk of which I had the key. He added, I need not ask you not to glance at them. I was almost hurt by his words and told him so rather sharply. He stammered, forgive me, I suffer so much. And tears came to his eyes. I left about one o'clock and I rushed through the meadows listening to the song of the larks and the rhythmical beat of my sword and my riding boots. Then I entered the forest and I set my horse to walking. Branches of the trees softly caressed my face and now and then I would catch a leaf between my teeth and bite it with avidity full of the joy of life, such as fills you without reason with a tumultuous happiness almost indefinable, a kind of magical strength. As I neared the house, I took out the letter for the gardener and noted with surprise that it was sealed. I was so amazed and so annoyed that I almost turned back without fulfilling my mission. Then I thought that I should thus display over-sensitiveness and bad taste. My friend might have sealed it unconsciously, worried as he was. The manor looked as though it had been deserted the last twenty years. The gate wide open and rotten held one wondered how. As I filled the paths, you could not tell the flower beds from the lawn. At the noise I made, kicking a shutter, an old man came out from a side door and was apparently amazed to see me there. I dismounted from my horse and gave him the letter. He read it once or twice, turned it over, looked at me with suspicion and asked, Well, what do you want? I answered sharply, You must know it as you have read your master's orders. In the house he appeared overwhelmed. He said, So, you are going in? In his room? I was getting impatient. Par bleu! Do you intend to question me by chance? He stammered. No, monsieur, only it has not been open since since the death. If you will wait five minutes I will go in to see whether I interrupted angrily. See here, are you joking? You can't go in that room as I have the key. You no longer knew what to say. Then, monsieur, I will show you the way. Show me the stairs and leave me alone. I can find it without your help. But still, monsieur, then I lost my temper. Now be quiet, else you'll be sorry. I roughly pushed him aside and went into the house. I first went through the kitchen, then crossed two small rooms occupied by the man and his wife. From there I stepped into a large hall. I went up the stairs and recognized the door my friend had described to me. I opened it with ease and went in. The room was so dark that at first I could not distinguish anything. I paused, arrested by the moldy and stale odor peculiar to deserted and condemned rooms of dead rooms. Then gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and I saw clearly a great room and disorder, a bed without sheets having still its mattresses and pillows, one of which bore the deep print of an elbow or a head as if someone had just been resting on it. The chairs seemed all in confusion. I noticed that a door, probably that of a closet, had remained ajar. I first went to the window and opened it to get some light, but the hinges of the outside shutters were so rusted that I could not loosen them. I even tried to break them with my sword but did not succeed. As those fruitless attempts irritated me and as my eyes were by now adjusted to the dim light, I gave up hope of getting more light and went toward the writing desk. I sat down in an armchair, folded back the top and opened the drawer. It was full to the edge. I needed but three packages which I knew how to distinguish and I started looking for them. I was straining my eyes to decipher and I thought I heard or rather felt a rustle behind me. I took no notice. Thinking a draft had lifted some curtain but a minute later another movement almost indistinct sent a disagreeable little shiver over my skin. It was so ridiculous to be moved thus even so slightly that I would not turn round being ashamed. I had just discovered the second package I needed and was on the point of reaching for the third when a great and sorrowful sigh close to my shoulder made me give a mad leap two yards away. In my spring I had turned round my hand on the hilt of my sword and surely had I not felt that I should have fled like a coward. A tall woman dressed in white was facing me standing behind the chair in which I had sat a second before such a shudder ran through me that I almost fell back. Oh, no one who has not felt them can understand those gruesome and ridiculous terrors. The soul melts, your heart seems to stop, your whole body becomes limp as a sponge and your innermost parts seem collapsing. I do not believe in ghosts and yet I broke down before the hideous fear of the dead and I suffered. Oh, I suffered more in a few minutes in the irresistible anguish of supernatural dread than I have suffered in all the rest of my life. If she had not spoken I might have died, but she did speak. She spoke in a soft and plaintive voice which set my nerves vibrating. I could not say that I had gained my self-control. No, I was past knowing what I did but the kind of pride I have in me is, well as a military pride helped me to maintain almost in spite of myself an honorable countenance. I was making a pose a pose for myself and for her, for her whatever she was, woman or phantom. I realized this later for at the time of the apparition I could think of nothing. I was afraid. She said, Oh, you can be of great help to me, Monsieur. I tried to answer but I was unable to utter one word. A vague sound came from my throat. She continued, Monsieur. You can save me, cure me. I suffer terribly. I always suffer. I suffer. Oh, I suffer. And she sat down gently in my chair. She looked at me. Will you? I nodded my head being still paralyzed. Then she handed me a woman's comb of tortoise shell and murmured comb my hair. That will cure me. Look at my head how I suffer and my hair how it hurts. Her loose hair very long, very black it seemed to me hung over the back of the chair touching the floor. Why did I do it? Why did I shivering except that comb and why did I take between my hands her long hair which left on my skin a ghastly impression of cold as if I had handled serpents? I do not know. That feeling still clings about my fingers and I shiver when I recall it. I combed her. I handled. I know not how that hair of ice. I bound and unbounded it. I plated it as one plates a horse's mane. She sighed, bent her head, seemed happy. Suddenly she said thank you, wore the comb from my hands and fled through the door which I had noticed was half opened. Left alone I had for a few seconds the hazy feeling one feels in waking up from a nightmare. Then I recovered myself. I ran to the window and broke the shutters by my furious assault. A stream of light poured in. I rushed to the door through which that being had gone. I found it locked and demovable. Then a fever of flight seized on me. A panic, the true panic of battle. I quickly grasped the three packages of letters from the open desk. I crossed the room running. I took the steps of the stairway four at a time. I found myself outside, I don't know how, and seeing my horse close by I mounted in one leap and left at a full gallop. I didn't stop till I reached Rowan and drew up in front of my house. Having thrown the reins to my orderly I flew to my room and locked myself in to think. Then for an hour I asked myself whether I had not been the victim of an hallucination. Certainly I must have had one of those nervous shocks, one of those brain disorders such as give rise to miracles to which the supernatural owes its strength. And I had almost concluded that it was a vision, an illusion of my senses when I came near to the window. My eyes by chance looked down. My tunic was covered with hairs, long woman's hairs which had entangled themselves around the buttons. I took them off one by one and threw them out of the window with trembling fingers. I then called my orderly. I felt too perturbed, too moved to go and see my friend on that day. Besides I needed to think over what I should tell him. I had his letters delivered to him. He gave a receipt to the soldier. He inquired after me and told that I was not well. I had had a son's choke or something. He seemed distressed. I went to see him the next day, early in the morning, bent on telling him the truth. He had gone out the evening before and had not come back. I returned the same day but he had not been seen. I waited a week. He did not come back. I notified the police. They searched for him everywhere but no one could find any trace of him passing or of his retreat. A careful search was made in a deserted manner. No suspicious clue was discovered. There was no sign that a woman had been concealed there. The inquest gave no result and so the search went no further. And in 56 years I have learned nothing more. I never found out the truth. End of A Ghost. May Alcott This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Carolyn Francis. Kitty's Class Day by Louisa May Alcott. A stitch in time saves nine. Oh, Pris! Pris! I'm really going! Here's the invitation, rough paper, chapel spreads, Lyceum Hall, everything splendid and Jack to take care of me. As Kitty burst into the room and performed a rapturous passall waving the cards over her head, Sister Priscilla looked up from her work with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face. Who invites you, dear? Why, Jack, of course! Dear old cousin Jack, nobody else ever thinks of me or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn't he kind? Maint I go? And, oh, Pris, what shall I wear? Kitty paused suddenly as if the last all-important question had a solemnizing effect upon both mind and body. Why, your white muslin, silk sack and new hat, of course, began Pris with an air of surprise, but Kitty broke in impetuously. I'll never wear that old muslin again. It's full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of fashion. So is my sack. And as for my hat, though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for class day. You don't expect an entirely new suit for this occasion. Do you? Pris, anxiously? Yes, I do. And I'll tell you how I mean to get it. I've planned everything, for though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by thinking how I could manage if I did get invited. Let us hear. And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation. First, my dress began Kitty perching herself on the arm of the sofa and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. I've got the ten dollars grandpa set me, and with eight of it I'm going to buy Lizzie King's organ-de muslin. She got it in Paris, but her aunt, providently, no, unfortunately, died. So she can't wear it, and wants to get rid of it. She is bigger than I am, you know, so there is enough for a little mantel sack, for it isn't made up. The skirt is cut off and gored with a splendid train. My dear, you don't mean you're going to wear one of those absurd new fashion dresses? exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes. I do. Nothing would induce me to go to class day without a train. It's been the desire of my heart to have one, and now I will if I never have another gown to my back. Returned Kitty with immense decision. Pris shook her head and said, Go on, as if prepared for any extravagance after that. We can make it ourselves, continued Kitty, and trim it with the same. It's white with blue stripes and daisies in the stripes. The loveliest thing you ever saw, and can't be got here. Simple, yet distinct way. I know you'll like it. Next my bonnet. Here the solemnity of Kitty's face and manner was charming to behold. I shall make it out of one of my new illusion undersleeves. I've never worn them, and the puffed part will be a plenty for a little flyaway bonnet of the latest style. I've got blue ribbons to tie it with and have only to look up some daisies for the inside. With my extra two dollars I shall buy my gloves and pay my fares. And there I am, all complete. She looked so happy, so pretty and full of girlish satisfaction that Sister Pris couldn't bear to disturb the little plan, much as she disapproved of it. They were poor and every penny had to be counted. There were plenty of neighbors to gossip and criticize and plenty of friends to make disagreeable remarks on any unusual extravagance. Pris saw things with the prudent eyes of thirty, but Kitty with the romantic eyes of seventeen and the elder sister, in the kindness of her heart, had no wish to sadden life to those bright young eyes or deny the child a harmless pleasure. She sewed thoughtfully for a minute, then looked up saying with a smile that always assured Kitty the day was won. Get your things together and we will see what can be done. But remember, dear, that it is both bad taste and bad economy for poor people to try to ape the rich. You're a perfect angel, Pris, so don't moralize. I'll run and get the dress and we'll begin it once, for there is much to do and only two days to do it in. And Kitty skipped away singing LaRanger Horatis at the top of her voice. Priscilla soon found that the girl's head was completely turned by the advice and example of certain fashionable young neighbors. It was in vain for Pris to remonstrate and warn. Just this once let me do as others do thoroughly enjoy myself pleaded Kitty and Pris yielded saying to herself she shall have her wish and if she learns the lesson neither time nor money will be lost. So they snipped and sewed and planned and pieced going through all the alternations of despair and triumph worry and satisfaction which women undergo when a new suit is under way. Kitty kept coming for news of Kitty's expedition had flown abroad and her young friends must just run in to hear about it and ask what she was going to wear. While Kitty was so glad and proud to tell and show and enjoy her little triumph that many half hours were wasted and the second day found much still to do. The lovely Muslim didn't hold out and Kitty sacrificed the waste to the train for a train she must have or the whole thing would be an utter failure. A little sack was eked out, however and when the frills were on it was ravishing, as Kitty said, with a sigh of mingled delight and fatigue. The gored skirt was a fearful job as anyone who has ever plunged into the mysteries will testify and before the facing even experienced prists quailed. The bonnet also was a trial for when the lace was on it was discovered that the ribbons didn't match the dress. Here was a catastrophe. Kitty frantically rummaged the house, the shops, the stores of her friends and rummaged in vain. There was no time to send to the city and despair was about to fall on Kitty when prists rescued her by quietly making one of the small sacrifices which were easy to her because her life was spent for others. Someone suggested a strip of blue illusion and that could be got but alas Kitty had no money for the gloves were already bought. Prists heard the lamentations and giving up fresh ribbons for herself pulled her sister out of a slo of despond with two yards of heavenly tool. Now the daisies and oh dear me not one can I find in this poverty-stricken town side Kitty, prinking at the glass and fervently hoping that nothing would happen to her complexion overnight. I see plenty just like those on your dress answered prists nodding toward the meadow full of young white weed you're a treasure all wear real ones they keep well I know and are so common I can refresh my bonnet anywhere it's a splendid idea Away rushed Kitty to return with an apron full of American daisies a pretty cluster was soon fastened just over the left hand frizzle of bright hair and the little bonnet was complete. Now prists tell me how she tried Kitty as she swept into the room late that afternoon in full gala costume it would have been impossible for the primist the sourest or the most sensible creature in the world to say that it wasn't a pretty sight the long train the big sheen yawn the apology for a bonnet were all ridiculous no one could deny that but youth and a happy heart made even those absurdities charming the erect young figure gave an air to the crisp folds of the delicate dress the bright eyes and fresh cheeks under the lace rosette made one forget its size and the rippling brown hair won admiration in spite of the ugly bunch which disfigured the girl's head the little jacket set divinely new gloves were as immaculate as white kids could be and to crown all Lizzy King in a burst of generosity lent Kitty the blue and white pair of sunshade which she couldn't use herself now I could die content I'm perfect in all respects and I know Jack won't be ashamed of me I really owe it to him to look my best you know that's why I'm so particular said Kitty in an apologetic tone as she began to lay away her finery I hope you will enjoy every minute of the time dearie don't forget to finish running up the facing I've basted it carefully and would do it if my head didn't ache so I really can't hold it up any longer answered Priss who had worked like a disinterested bee while Kitty had flown about like a distracted butterfly go and lie down you dear kind soul and don't think of my nonsense again said Kitty feeling remorseful till Priss was completely asleep when she went to her room and reveled in her finery till bedtime so absorbed was she in learning to manage her train gracefully that she forgot the facing till very late then being worn out with work and worry she did what girls are too apt to do stuck a pin here and there and trusting to Priscilla's careful bastings left it as it was retiring to dream of a certain Horace Fletcher who's aristocratic elegance had made a deep impression upon her during the few evenings she had seen him nothing could have been lovelier than the morning and few hearts happier than these as she arrayed herself with the utmost care and waited in solemn state for the carriage for muslin trains and dewy roads were incompatible and one luxury brought another my goodness where did she get that stylish suit whispered Miss Smith to Miss Jones as Kitty floated into the station with all sales set finding it impossible to resist the invitation to astonish certain young ladies who had snubbed her in times past which snubs had wrinkled and were now avenged I looked everywhere for a muslin for today and couldn't find any I liked so I was forced to wear my mauve silk observed Miss Smith complacently settling the silvery folds of her dress it's very pretty but one ruins a silk at class day so I thought this organdy would be more comfortable and appropriate this warm day a friend brought it from Paris and it's like one the Princess of Wales wore at the great flower show this year returned Kitty with the air of a young lady who had all her dresses from Paris and was intimately acquainted with the royal family those girls were entirely extinguished by this stroke and hadn't a word to say for themselves while Kitty casually mentioned Horace Fletcher Lyceum Hall and Cousin Jack for they had only a little freshman brother to boast of and were not going to Lyceum Hall as she stepped out of the cars at Cambridge Jack opened his honest blue eyes and indulged in a low whistle of astonishment for if there was anything he especially hated it was the trains she yawns and tiny bonnets then in fashion he was very fond of Kitty and prided himself on being able to show his friends a girl who was charming and yet not overdressed she has made a regular guy of herself I won't tell her so and the dear little soul shall have a jolly time in spite of her fuss and feathers but I do wish she had let her hair alone and worn that pretty hat as this thought passed through Jack's mind he smiled and bowed and made his way among the crowd whispering as he drew his cousin's arm through his own why Kitty you got up regardless of expense aren't you I'm so glad you came we'll have a rousing good time and you shall see all the fun oh thank you Jack do I look nice really I tried to be a credit to you and I did have such a job of it I'll make you laugh over it some time a carriage for me bless us how fine we are and Kitty stepped in feeling that only one thing more was needed to make her cup overflow that one thing was speedily vouchsafed for before her skirts were smoothly settled Jack called out in his hearty way how are you Fletcher if you are bound for chapel I'll take you up thanks good morning Miss Heath it was all done in an instant and the next thing Kitty knew she was rolling away with the elegant Horace sitting opposite how little it takes to make a young girl happy a pretty dress sunshine and somebody opposite and they are blessed Kitty's face glowed with pleasure as she glanced about her especially when she sitting in state with two gentlemen all to herself passed those girls walking in the dust with a beardless boy she felt that she could forgive past slights and did so with a magnanimous smile and bow both Jack and Fletcher had graduated the year before but still took an interest in their old haunts and patronized the fellows who were not yet through the mill at least the seniors and juniors of softs and freshs they were sublimely unconscious greeted by frequent slaps on the shoulder and hearty how are you old fellows they piloted Kitty to a seat in the chapel an excellent place but the girls satisfaction was marred by Fletcher's desertion and she could not see anything attractive about the dashing young lady in the pink bonnet whom he devoted himself because she was a stranger Kitty said everybody knows what goes on in the chapel after the fight and scramble are over the rustle and buzz, the music the oratory and the poem during which the men cheer and the girls simper the professor's yawn and the poet's friends pronounce him a second longfellow then the closing flourishes the grand crush then the fun really begins as far as the young folks are concerned they don't mind swarming up and downstairs in a solid phalanx they can enjoy half a dozen courses of salad, ice and strawberries with stout gentlemen crushing their feet anxious mamas sticking sharp elbows into their sides and absent-minded tutors walking over them they can flirt vigorously in a torrid atmosphere of dinner dust and din can smile with hot coffee running down their backs small avalanches of ice cream descending upon their best bonnets and sandwiches, butterside down reposing on their delicate silks they know that it is a costly rapture but they carefully refrain from thinking of the morrow and energetically illustrate the Yankee Maxim which bids us enjoy ourselves in our early bloom Kitty did have a rousing good time for Jack was devoted taking her everywhere showing her everything feeding and fanning her and festooning her train with untiring patience how many forcible expressions he mentally indulged in as he walked on that unlucky train we will not record he smiled and skipped and talked of treading on flowers in a way that would have charmed Kitty someone else had not been hovering about the daisy as Fletcher called her after he returned she neglected Jack who took it coolly and was never in the way unless she wanted him for the first time in her life Kitty deliberately flirted the little coqueteries which are as natural to a gay young girl as her laughter were all in full play and had she gone no further no harm would have been done but excited by the example of those about her Kitty tried to enact the fashionable young lady and like most novices she overdid the part quite forgetting her cousin she tossed her head twirled her fan gave affected little shrieks at college jokes and talked college slang in a way that convulsed Fletcher who enjoyed the fun immensely Jack saw it all shook his head and said nothing but his face grew rather sober as he watched Kitty flushed, dishevelled and breathless whirling round Lyceum Hall on the arm of Fletcher who danced divinely as all the girls agreed Jack had proposed going but Kitty had frowned so he fell back leaving her to listen and laugh blush and shrink a little at her partner's flowery compliments and admiring glances if she stands that long she's not the girl I took her for thought Jack beginning to lose patience she doesn't look like my little Kitty and somehow I don't feel half so fond and proud of her as usual I know one thing my daughter shall never be seen knocking about in that style as if the thought suggested the act Jack suddenly assumed an air of parental authority and arresting his cousin as she was about to begin again he said in a tone she had never heard before I promised Prist to take care of you so I shall carry you off to rest and put yourself to rights after this game of romps I advise you to do the same Fletcher or give your friend in the pink bone in a turn Kitty took Jack's arm petishly but glanced over her smiling smile that Fletcher followed feeling very much like a top in danger of tumbling down the instant he stopped spinning as she came out Kitty's face cleared and assuming her sprightliest air she spread her plumage and prepared to descend with effect for a party of uninvited Paris stood at the gate of this paradise casting longing glances at the forbidden splendors within slowly that all might see her Kitty sailed down with Horace the debonair in her wake and was just thinking to herself those girls won't get over this very soon I fancy when all in one moment she heard Fletcher exclaim wrathfully hang the flounces she saw a very glossy black hat come skipping down the steps felt a violent twitch backward and to save herself from a fall sat down on the lower step with most undignified haste it was impossible for the bystanders to help laughing for there was Fletcher hopping wildly about with one foot nicely caught in a muslin loop and there sat Kitty longing to run away and hide herself yet perfectly helpless while everyone tittered Miss Jones and Miss Smith laughed shrilly and the despised little freshman completed her mortification by a feeble joke about Kitty Heath's new man trap it was only an instant but it seemed an hour before Fletcher freed her and snatching up the dusty beaver left her with a flushed countenance and an abrupt bow if it hadn't been for Jack Kitty would have burst into tears then and there so terrible was the sense of humiliation which oppressed her for his sake she controlled herself and bundling up her torn train set her teeth stared straight before her and let him lead her in dead silence to a friend's room nearby there he locked the door and began to comfort her by making light of the little mishap but Kitty cried so tragically that he was at his wit's end till the ludicrous side of the affair struck her and she began to laugh hysterically with a vague idea that vigorous treatment was best for that feminine ailment Jack was about to empty the contents of an ice-pitcher over her when she arrested him by exclaiming incoherently oh don't it was so funny how can you laugh you cruel boy I'm disgraced forever take me home to press oh take me home to press I will my dear I will but first let me write you up a bit you look as if you had been hazed upon my life you do and Jack laughed in spite of himself at the wretched little object before him for dust, dancing and the downfall produced a ruinous spectacle that broke Kitty's heart and spreading her hands before her face she was about to cry again when the sad sight which met her eyes dispelled the gathering tears the new gloves were both split up the middle and very dirty with clutching at the steps as she went down never mind you can wash them said Jack soothingly I paid a dollar and a half for them and they can't be washed, groaned Kitty oh hang the gloves and then your hands cried Jack trying to keep sober no matter for my hands I mourned my gloves but I won't cry anymore for my head aches now so I can hardly see and Kitty threw off her bonnet as if even that airy trifle hurt her seeing how pale she looked Jack tenderly suggested a rest on the old sofa and a wet handkerchief on her hot forehead while he got the good landlady to send her up a cup of tea as Kitty rose to comply she glanced at her dress and clasping her hands exclaimed tragically the facing the fatal facing that made all the mischief for if I'd sewed it up last night it wouldn't have ripped to day if it hadn't ripped Fletcher wouldn't have got his foot in it I shouldn't have made an object of myself wouldn't have gone off in a rage and who knows what might have happened bless the what's its name if it has settled him cried Jack he is a contemptible fellow not to stay and help you out of the scrape he got you into follow his lead and don't trouble yourself about him well he was rather absurd today I allow but he has got handsome eyes and hands and he does dance like an angel side Kitty as she pinned up the treacherous loop which had brought destruction to her little castle in the air handsome eyes white hands and angelic feet don't make a man wait till you can do better Kit with an odd grave look that rather startled Kitty Jack vanished to return presently with a comfortable cup of tea sandwiches and soothe her by the foolish little purrings and pattings so grateful to female nerves after a flurry I'll come back and take you out to see the dance round the tree when you've had a bit of a rest said Jack vibrating between door and sofa as if it wasn't easy to get away oh I couldn't cried Kitty with a shudder at the bare idea of meeting anyone I can't be seen again tonight let me stay here till my train goes I thought it had gone already said Jack with an irrepressible twinkle of the eye that glanced at the draggled dress sweeping the floor how can you joke about it and the girls reproachful eyes filled with tears of shame I know I've been very silly Jack but I've had my punishment and I don't need any more feel that you despise me is worse than all the rest she ended with a little sob and turned her face away to hide the trembling of her lips at that Jack flushed up his eyes shone and he stooped suddenly as if to make some impetuous reply but remembering the old lady who by the by was discreetly looking out of the window he put his hands in his pockets and strolled out of the room I've lost them both by this day's folly, thought Kitty and Mrs. Brown departed with the teacup I don't care for Fletcher for I dare say he didn't mean half he said and I was only flattered because he is rich and handsome and the girls glorify him but I shall miss Jack for I've known and loved him all my life how good he's been to me today so patient careful and kind though he must have been ashamed of me I know he didn't like my dress but he never said a word and stood by me through everything oh I wish I'd minded Priss then he would have respected me at least I wonder if he ever will again following a sudden impulse Kitty sprang up locked the door and proceeded to destroy all her little vanities as far as possible she smoothed out her crimps with a wet and ruthless hand fastened up her pretty hair in the simple way Jack liked gave her once cherished bonnet a spiteful shake as she put it on and utterly extinguished it with a big blue veil she looped up her dress leaving no vestige of the now hateful train and did herself up uncompromisingly in the quakerish gray shawl Priss had insisted on her taking for the evening then she surveyed herself with pensive satisfaction saying in the tone of one bent on resolutely mortifying the flesh neat, but not gaudy I'm a fright but I deserve it and it's better than being a peacock Kitty had time to feel a little friendless and forlorn sitting there alone as twilight fell and amused herself by wondering if Fletcher would come to inquire about her or show any further interest in her yet when the sound of a manly tramp approached she trembled lest it should be the victim of the fatal facing the door opened and with a sigh of relief she saw Jack come in bearing a pair of new gloves in one hand and a great bouquet of June roses in the other how good of you to bring me these they are more refreshing than oceans of tea you know what I like Jack thank you very much cried Kitty sniffing at her roses with grateful rapture and you know what I like returned Jack with an approving glance at the altered figure before him I'll never do so anymore murmured Kitty wondering why she felt bashful all of a sudden when it was only Cousin Jack now put on your gloves dear and come out and hear the music your train doesn't go for two hours yet and you mustn't mope here all that time said Jack offering his second gift how did you know my size asked Kitty putting on the gloves in a hurry for though Jack had called her dear for years the word had a new sound tonight I guessed no I didn't I have the old ones with me they are no good now are they and too honest to lie Jack tried to speak carelessly though he turned red in the dusk well knowing that the dirty little gloves were folded away in his left breast pocket at that identical moment oh dear no these fit nicely I'm ready if you don't mind going with such a fright said Kitty forgetting her dread of seeing people in her desire to get away from that room because for the first time in her life she wasn't at ease with Jack I think I like the little gray moth better than the fine butterfly returned Jack who in spite of his invitation seemed to find moping rather pleasant you are a rainy day friend and he isn't said Kitty softly as she drew him away Jack's only answer was to lay his hand on the little white glove resting so confidingly on his arm and keeping it there they roamed away into the summer twilight something had happened to the evening and the place for both seemed suddenly endowed with uncommon beauty and interest the dingy old houses might have been fairy palaces for anything they saw to the contrary the dusty walks the trampled grass were regular Elysian fields to them and the music was the music of the spheres though they found themselves right in the middle of the boom jing jing for both had made a little discovery no not a little one the greatest and sweetest man and woman can make in the sharp twinge of jealousy which the side of Kitty's flirtation with Fletcher gave him and the delight he found in her after conduct Jack discovered how much he loved her in the shame gratitude and half sweet half bitter emotion that filled her heart Kitty felt that to her Jack would never be only cousin Jack any more all the vanity coquetry selfishness and ill temper of the day seemed magnified to henious sins for now her only thought was seeing these faults he can't care for me oh I wish I was a better girl she did not say for his sake but in the new humility the ardent wish to be all that a woman should be little Kitty proved how true her love was and might have said with Porsche for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish but for you I would be troubled twenty times myself a thousand times more fair ten thousand times more rich all about them other pairs were wandering under the patriarchal elms enjoying music, starlight, balmy winds and all the luxuries of the season if the band had played oh there's nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream it is my private opinion that it would have suited the audience to a T being principally composed of elderly gentlemen with large families they had not that fine sense of the fitness of things so charming to see and tooted and banged away with waltzes and marches quite regardless of the flocks of Romeo's and Juliet's flandering all about them undercover of a popular medley Kitty overheard Fletcher quizzing her for the amusement of Miss Pinkbonnet who was evidently making up for lost time it was feeble wit but it put the finishing stroke to Kitty's vanity and she dropped a tear in her blue tissue retreat and clung to Jack feeling that she had never valued him half enough she hoped he didn't hear the gossip going on at the other side of the tree near which they stood but he did for his hand involuntarily doubled itself up into a very dangerous looking fist and he darted such fiery glances at the speaker that if the thing had been possible Fletcher's ambrosial curls would have been scorched off his head never mind and don't get angry Jack they are right about one thing the daisies in my bonnet were real and I couldn't afford any others I don't care much only Priss worked so hard to get me ready I hate to have my things made fun of he isn't worth a thrashing so we'll let it pass this time said Jack artfully artfully yet privately resolving to have it out with Fletcher by and by why Kitty I thought the real daisies the prettiest things about your dress don't throw them away I'll wear them just to show that noodle that I prefer nature to art and Jack gallantly stuck the faded posy in his buttonhole while Kitty treasured up the hint so kindly given for future use if a clock with great want of tact hadn't insisted on telling them that it was getting late Kitty never would have got home for both the young people felt inclined to loiter about arm in arm through the sweet summer night forever Jack had meant to say something before she went and was immensely surprised to find the chance lost for the present he wanted to go home with her and free his mind but a neighborly old gentleman having been engaged as escort there would have been very little satisfaction in traveling trio so he gave it up he was very silent as they walked to the station with Mr. Dodd trudging behind them Kitty thought he was tired perhaps glad to be rid of her and meekly accepted her fate but as the train approached she gave his hand an impulsive squeeze and said very gratefully Jack I can't thank you enough for your kindness to your silly little cousin but I never shall forget it and if I can ever return it in any way I will with all my heart Jack looked down at the young face almost pathetic now with weariness, humility and pain yet very sweet with that new shyness in the loving eyes and stooping suddenly he kissed it whispering in a tone that made the girl's heart flutter I'll tell you how you may return it with all your heart bye and bye good night my Kitty have you had a good time dear asked Priss as her sister appeared an hour later don't I look as if I had as if I had and throwing off her wraps Kitty revolved slowly before her that she might behold every portion of the wreck my gown is all dust crumple and rags my bonnet perfectly limp and flat and my gloves are ruined I've broken Lizzie's parasol and made a spectacle of myself and wasted money time and temper yet my class day isn't a failure for Jack is the dearest boy in the world and I'm very very happy Priss looked at her a minute then opened her arms without a word and Kitty forgot all her little troubles in one great joy when Miss Smith and Miss Jones called a few days after to tell her that Mr. Fletcher was going abroad the amiable creatures were entirely routed by finding Jack there in a most unmistakable situation he blamely wished Horace bon voyage and regretted that he wouldn't be there to the wedding in October Kitty devoted herself to blushing beautifully and darning many rents in a short daisy muslin skirt which I intend to wear a great deal because Jack likes it and so do I, she said with a demure look at her lover who laughed as if that was the best joke of the season end of Kitty's class day