properly. The man did not take it kindly, and I noted that one or two seemed to sympathize with him.
"Those confounded mosquitoes will always make for me," Tom continued. "As they were particularly aggressive, and I did not desire to be drawn into conversation, in which case I might have spoken my mind too freely, I withdrew to the other end of the verandah, and enjoyed my pipe behind some creepers with less molestation from human and insectile bores. The window of a little room off the parlour," continued Tom, "was open close to me."
"That is Eva Dowling's apartment," remarked Frank. "I must have dozed. I was aroused by the sense of some one moving beside me. Lo and behold! our socialistic friend was in the room examining a silver pocket-case. As he held it near a turned-down lamp beside the window, the light fell on two portraits, painted on ivory. One was that of an elderly lady, and the other, that very girl with the striking face, whom, in this place where everything is topsy-turvy, you set to milk cows and feed pigs."
"Gwyneth Elms!" said Frank. "But what on earth was the fellow doing in Eva's room?"
"Wait and you shall hear. The stupid fellow hurriedly kissed the portrait, whipped out his knife, quick as lightning removed the miniatures, and substituted two photographs. Closing the case he deposited it carefully on a shelf containing a lot of girls' books and nicknacks. In a moment he was out of the room.
"Now what did all that mean? Some devilment, I'll be bound, for there was a wicked expression on the scoundrel's face all the while.
"When I rejoined the motley company I was glad to find Travers amongst them. He expressed regret that
