as four years ago—I see the candles lit on the Great White Way—I hear the elevated roar, and the newsboys shout, and Diamond Jim Brady applauding at a musical comedy s first night. New York!"
Mr. Max rose pompously and pointed a yellow finger at the Hermit of Baldpate Mountain.
"I got you!" he cried in triumph. "I'm wise! You want to go back."
A half-hearted smile crossed the visible portion of the hermit s face.
"I guess I'm about the poorest liar in the world," he said. "I never got away with but one lie in my life, and that was only for a little while. It was a masterpiece while it lasted, too. But it was my only hit as a liar. Usually I fail, as I have failed now. I lied when I said I couldn't cook for you because I had to be true to my hermit's oath. That isn't the reason. I'm afraid."
"Afraid?" echoed Mr. Magee.
"Scared," said Mr. Peters, "of temptation. Your seventh son of a seventh son friend here has read my palm O. K. I want to go back. Not in the summer, when the inn blazes like
