Spurred to pictures by the old brocade, Kenny wished he had some velvet knickerbockers and a satin coat.

The thought of his knapsack wardrobe filled him with discontent.
Hum! To-morrow he must prevail upon someone to conduct him to the nearest village in wire communication with the outside world.
To Garry two days later came a telegram from Craig Farm.

It covered three typewritten pages and read like a theatrical manager's costume instructions to a star.
Garry stared.
"Oh, my Lord!" he groaned.

"The sister's pretty!" After a dazed interval, however, he found comfort in the thought that the postmark had been harmless.

It had served no other purpose than to lead the penitential lunatic to Craig Farm.