HEREDITY
succeeded in catching a fleeting hold upon the thatched roof.
For a moment he hung there, clawing with his feet like a cat on a clothesline, but presently a piece of the thatch came away, and Mr. Philander, preceding it, was precipitated upon his back.
At the instant he fell a remarkable item of natural history leaped to his mind. If one feigns death lions and lionesses are supposed to ignore one, according to Mr. Philander's faulty memory.
So Mr. Philander lay as he had fallen, frozen into the horrid semblance of death. As his arms and legs had been extended stiffly upward as he came to earth upon his back the attitude of death was anything but impressive.
Jane Porter had been watching his antics in mild eyed surprise. Now she laughed—a little choking, gurgle of a laugh; but it was enough. Mr. Philander rolled over upon his side and peered about. At length he discovered her.
"Jane!" he cried. "Jane Porter. Bless me!"
He scrambled to his feet and rushed toward her. He could not believe that it was she, and alive.
"Bless me! Where did you come from? Where in the world have you been? How—"
"Mercy, Mr. Philander," interrupted the girl, "I never can remember so many questions."
"Well, well," said Mr. Philander. "Bless
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