“Oh, dear, I wish examinations and school were over,” Grace sighed impatiently.  “I can’t go to the woods alone, and I can’t get any one to go with me.  I suppose I’ll have to give it up and go home.  No, I won’t, either.  I’ll go as far as the old Omnibus House.  There are lots of wild plants in the orchard surrounding it, and I may get some new specimens.”

With her basket on her arm, Grace turned her steps in the direction of the old house.  She had not been there since the day of their reunion.  She smiled to herself as she recalled the absurdities of that occasion.

After traversing the orchard several times and finding nothing startling in the way of specimens, Grace concluded that she might as well have stayed at home.

She walked slowly over to the steps and sat down, placing the basket beside her.  “How lonely it seems here to-day,” she thought.  “I wonder where old Jean is?  I haven’t seen him for an age.”  Then she fell to musing over the school year so nearly ended.  Everything that had happened passed through her mind like a panorama.  It had been a stormy year, full of quarrels and bickerings, but it was about to end gloriously.  Anne and Miriam had become the best of friends, while she and Julia Crosby were daily finding out each other’s good qualities There was nothing left to be desired.

Grace started from her dream and looked at her watch.  It was after six o’clock.  She had better be getting back.

She rose and reached for her basket.

Suddenly a figure loomed up before her.  Grace started in surprise, to find herself facing a tall, thin man with wild, dark eyes.  He stood with folded arms, regarding her fixedly.

[Illustration:  Grace Found Herself Facing a Tall, Thin Man.]

“Why, where——­” but she got no further, for the curious new-comer interrupted her.

“Ah, Josephine,” he said, “so I have found you at last.”

“My name isn’t Josephine at all.  It’s Grace Harlowe, and you have made a mistake,” said Grace, endeavoring to pass him.  But he barred her way, saying sadly: 

“What, do you, too, pretend?  Do you think I do not know you?  I, your royal husband, Napoleon Bonaparte.”

“Good gracious,” gasped Grace.  “He’s crazy as can be.  How ever shall I get away from him?”

The man heard the word “crazy” and exclaimed angrily:  “How dare you call me crazy!  You, of all people, should know I am sane.  I have just returned from Isle of St. Helena to claim my empire.  For years I have been an exile, but now I am free, free.”  He waved his arms wildly.

“Yes, of course I know you, now,” said Grace, thinking to mollify him.  “How strange that I didn’t recognize you before.”

Then she remembered reading in the paper of the preceding night of the escape of a dangerous lunatic from the state asylum, that was situated a few miles from Oakdale.  This must be the man.  Grace decided that he answered the description the paper had given.  She realized that she would have to be careful not to anger him.  It would require strategy to get clear of him.