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that though the house is large, the attic seemed larger still; I went to one of those dormer windows and peered out, more than half expecting to see something very strange indeed.
    In a way I did, George. I saw treetops. Only the leafy green tops of trees in every direction.
    My first thought, naturally, was that I was at the back of the house and looking down upon the wood in which I had freed Winkle. And yet, that could not be.
    I see I got blood on the paper. Sorry! I have bathed the place--what a blessing it is to have running water! I have torn up an old shirt--all my shirts are old. Your old shirts would fit me and would be treasured; I hope you will consider sending a few.

    The bleeding seems to have stopped.

    He roused me by slamming the closet door. I jerked awake and sat up, disoriented and badly frightened. After that, I heard the crash of breaking glass. Is there a more frightening sound in all the world?
    I jumped up and saw that he had broken one of the windows I had repaired. Rage displaced my fear, and I rushed at him. What I intended to do, I have no idea.
    Whatever it was, I had no chance to do it. He was only a boy, a head shorter than I; but he was strong and fought like a wild animal. I hit him more than once, and he pounded and kicked me.
    Then I was down and he kicking me again and again. I tried to protect my head with my arms, tried to roll away. I remember his shoes, low black shoes with gold buckles and thick soles. Isn't that odd? Please excuse the blood.

    That will do it, I think.
    A big man appeared--out of nowhere, it seemed. For a moment or two he stood between the boy and me, and the boy fled. I sat up and the man was gone. You will believe none of this; but it is true, every word of it. I have the bruises and the bleeding nose to prove it.
    To say nothing of the broken window.
    The big man must certainly have been the boy's father. At the time, because of his ring, I thought him something else; but now that I have had a chance to consider, I feel quite sure that I understand everything that happened.
    The boy returned looking for the bronze apparatus I have described. He expected to find it in the coat closet, though I cannot say why. Perhaps he assumed that I would keep it near me, and not finding it in plain view in a room almost entirely empty, he thought it must be in the closet. He looked inside, but it lay flat on the shelf intended for hats, and it was pushed back a trifle. Since the shelf is higher than his head, he failed to find it. Enraged, he broke the window as I have described.
    His father had followed him, feeling no doubt that his son was up to mischief. He got into my house as his son had, through an entrance I must find and secure. Hearing the breaking of my window, he would have run toward us; and finding his son in the act of kicking me, he forced him to desist. I must have lost consciousness at that point; and he (intent upon punishing his son and perhaps fearing that I might sue) left with the boy.
    I hope you and Millie are well, and faring better than your poor brother.
    Yours sincerely,
    Bax

Number 8
T HE G OOD B OY

    Dear George:

    Doubtless you will resent this second letter, coming as soon as it does. But then you resent everything, or nearly everything. I have all sorts of news! Why should my letters be exempt?
    When I studied my face in the mirror this morning, I decided I really ought to seek treatment. I have no money for a doctor, as you know; but I recalled that under the law anyone who goes to the emergency ward of a hospital must receive treatment. I would walk to a drugstore I had noticed on earlier walks and inquire about the nearest.
    I had traversed no more than a block or two, when a car screeched to a stop beside me. "What happened to
you
?" It was Martha Murrey.
    Smiling bravely, I declared that it was nothing.
    "You get in here this minute. I'm going to take you home and put ice on that."
    Of course I obeyed.
    "Did you win?"
    I shook my