make the hopeless experiment. I walked back to the tower hastily
and desperately, to face the worst that might happen before my
courage cooled altogether.

On crossing the threshold of the hall door I was stopped, to my
great amazement, by a procession of three of the farm-servants,
followed by Morgan, all walking after each other, in Indian file,
toward the spiral staircase that led to the top of the tower. The
first of the servants carried the materials for making a fire;
the second bore an inverted arm-chair on his head; the third
tottered under a heavy load of books; while Morgan came last,
with his canister of tobacco in his hand, his dressing-gown over
his shoulders, and his whole collection of pipes hugged up
together in a bundle under his arm.

"What on earth does this mean?" I inquired.

"It means taking Time by the forelock," answered Morgan, looking
at me with a smile of sour satisfaction. "I've got the start of
your young woman, Griffith, and I'm making the most of it."

"But where, in Heaven's name, are you going?" I asked, as the
head man of the procession disappeared with his firing up the
staircase.

"How high is this tower?" retorted Morgan.

"Seven stories, to be sure," I replied.

"Very good," said my eccentric brother, setting his foot on the