"I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. Nothing seemed to be amiss. . Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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