came a flare as he lighted a small kerosene lamp which stood on a rickety console table near the foot of the stairs. The feeble glow revealed the stooping figure of a very tall, emaciated old man, disordered in dress and unshaven as to face, yet for all that with the bearing and expression of a gentleman.

I did not wait for him to speak, but at once began to explain my presence.

"You'll pardon my coming in like this, but when my knocking didn't raise anybody I concluded that no one lived here. I wanted to know the shortest road to Cape Girardeau. I wanted to get there before dark, but now, of course——"

As I paused, the man spoke, in exactly the cultivated tone I had expected, and with a mellow accent as unmistakably Southern as the house he inhabited.

"Rather, you must pardon me for not answering your knock more promptly. I live in a very retired way, and am not usually expecting visitors. At first I thought you were a mere curiosity-seeker. When you knocked again I started to answer, but I am not well and have to move very slowly, owing to spinal neuritis—very troublesome case.

"As for your getting to town before dark—you can't do that. The road you are on isn't the best or shortest way. What you must do is to take the first real road to your left after you leave the gate. There are three or four cart-paths you can ignore, but you can't mistake the real road because of the large willow tree on the right just opposite it.

"When once you've turned, keep on past two roads and turn to the right along the third. After that——"

Perplexed by these elaborate directions, confusing indeed to a total stranger, I could not help interrupting.

"Please, how can I follow all these clues in pitch-darkness, without ever having been near here before, and with only an indifferent pair of headlights to tell me what is and what isn't a road? Besides, I think it's going to storm pretty soon, and my car is an open one. It looks as if I were in a bad fix if I want to get to Cape Girardeau tonight. The fact is, I don't think I'd better try. I don't like to impose, but in view of the circumstances, do you suppose you could put me up for the night? I won't be any trouble. Just let me have a corner to sleep in till daylight, and I'm all right. I can leave the car in the road where it is; wet weather won't hurt it."

As I made my sudden request 

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