cernible, although the words were indistinct. Suppressing an exclamation of anger, she crossed to the open casement and edged aside the curtain,

Adrian and Tony were sitting on a stone bench in the garden, intent over a small, inlaid music-box. Adrian held it between long, sensitive fingers and scrutinized it in the light of the late afternoon.

"When I played it last, it went all right, but that was years ago," explained Tony helplessly. "I thought if you could fix watches and things, perhaps you could get this started."

"We'll find out soon enough." He removed the panel that covered the mech-

anism.

"Tell me," asked Adrian without looking up, "is the rest of the house like the parlor?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean a whole maze of shiny surfaces; wherever I stand, I see my reflection looking at me out of the corner of its eye or actually staring. Rather disconcerting.

"Oh, yes, now I understand. Yes, the whole house is like that, more or less. Except, of course, my room. You wouldn't believe my room belonged in that house it's an awful mess." He sighed. "But Domenica is resigned to it."

"What's it like ?"

"Well, for one thing, it's the sunniest room in the house, and one of the smallest." He became thoughtful. "But I couldn't live in a big room, or a neat room either .. in one corner and you mustn't laugh

"I won't."

"I have all the toys I owned when I was young. Isn't that silly?" "Not at all. I envy your being able to keep them."

"And then, I have a collection of all the odd things I find like feathers and butterfly wings."

Adrian smiled sympathetically at the music-box.

"Have you ever tried catching butterflies?"

"Oh, no. I hate to kill things. I don't keep a pet because when I had a puppy once, it died of some sort of fit, and I found it afterwards it was stiff and lying in a pool of something. I couldn't go through that again. Besides, Domenica is just as happy with no pet around to mess up the house," and Tony stared mournfully into the distance.

Unexpectedly, the music-box began to play. Tony laughed as a diminutive, but very self-important tune pricked the air.

"You fixed it!"

"It was hardly broken. The cylinder was stuck, Disuse has a methodical way of ruining anything." He closed the lid and the music stopped.

Tony reclaimed his music-box. "It must have been under that pile of junk

in my room for ages." There was a brief silence.

Do you ever hate that house?" asked Adrian suddenly.

Tony's expression was one of surprise rather than shock. "What do you

mean, Adrian?"

"I mean that it's not a place for people to live in. It's a museum with exhibits under glass and music-boxes that won't run. To put it flatly, have you never felt that you would like to go away for a while and live in a place more like the garden?"

"Yes, yes!" Suddenly Tony began to speak with increased animation. "I want to be with people and talk! Domenica is practically the only person I ever speak to, and now we hardly have to do that we just go about sensing each other's thoughts, and habit takes care of the rest." Tony could not seem to speak fast enough; his eyes grew wider as his enthusiasm waxed, and Adrian listened in amazement.