his own house--not his University laboratory
with the tall spectroscope--sat
down to a table and began industriously
to weave.

Turning from a bench where he sat
fiddling with a steel chamber, part of the
anatomy of a fledgling Thunder Bird, of
one of those small model rockets which
he was fitting up for experiments on a
mountain-top, the inventor watched her
listlessly.

"Hullo! What's the charm now, the
thing of beauty? That--that looks
such stuff as dreams are made of."
Toandoah drew a long breath.

"No, it isn't dream-stuff, father; it's
history, the history of your life and mine,
all told in symbols, woven into a chain,
a stole--see--to wear with my ceremonial
dress. It--it's my masterpiece."
Pem looked up, all girl, all Rose, now.
"I didn't want to show it to you until
it was finished. But now--now--don't
you want to see it?"

[[55]]

p054 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p055w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p056

v?