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 that were laughing, though the lips were not. The eyes were looking straight at Fen, glancing quickly from the serious little face, with its sensitive mouth and shining frame of red-gold hair, to the frail form lost among the many pillows. There was a rather puzzled expression in the level gaze of Fen's sober hazel eyes as he finally said:

"How do you do?"

"How do you do?" said the Head, in a nice, deep voice; "may I come on over?"

"Yes. Please do!" Fen rather wanted to see if there were any more to the Head, or whether it just floated about like a cherub. There was—a great deal more to it. When its owner had climbed to the deck, he proved to be an exceedingly tall, white-clad young man.

"Please, who are you?" asked Fen, after his eyes had traveled upward till they reached the Head again 5