be living pictures; there shall be golden girls and boys leaping
in the sun."

Turnbull, still standing up, opened his lips. "Will you put me
down, please?" he said, quite calmly, like on stopping an
omnibus.

"Put you down--what do you mean?" cried his leader. "I am taking
you to the front of the revolutionary war, where you will be one
of the first of the revolutionary leaders."

"Thank you," replied Turnbull with the same painful constraint.
"I have heard about your revolutionary war, and I think on the
whole that I would rather be anywhere else."

"Do you want to be taken to a monastery," snarled the other,
"with MacIan and his winking Madonnas."

"I want to be taken to a madhouse," said Turnbull distinctly,
giving the direction with a sort of precision. "I want to go back
to exactly the same lunatic asylum from which I came."

"Why?" asked the unknown.

"Because I want a little sane and wholesome society," answered
Turnbull.

There was a long and peculiar silence, and then the man driving
the flying machine said quite coolly: "I won't take you back."