As I entered the hotel a divine vision passed out of it, clothed in the glory of the Indian sunshine--the Mary Wilson of my long-vanished boyhood! It was a startling thing.

Before I could recover from the bewildering shock and speak to her she was gone.

I thought maybe I had seen an apparition, but it was not so, she was flesh.

She was the granddaughter of the other Mary, the original Mary.

That Mary, now a widow, was up-stairs, and presently sent for me.