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 had to follow twelve miles of private road to reach it. The Lampmans were very quiet people in spite of their castle, and would have stayed on very comfortably in the St. Francis Hotel had it not been for Sammy Lampman, their son. Sammy was a sickly boy of seventeen, very pale and imaginative, who was forced by the doctors to lead a very secluded life. So, when he demanded a castle, a castle there had to be, and the good old senator had to put in a big part of his day traveling from Ydle Wyld to State Street, and from State Street to Ydle Wyld. Their visit to Europe had been to see specialists, who were very doubtful whether poor Sammy would ever round out twenty-one.

The papers were always making fun of Ydle Wyld, especially those on the other political side; and it was called a menace to republican ideals, and was regarded as an insolent attempt to revive the feudal system. But the senator bore it uncomplainingly for his son's sake, and imported stacks of tapestry