“Well, Sir, as I was saying, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I made up my mind I had better see who it was. I turned around. And then I saw, a few yards from me, a stranger. How he came there without my having seen him before, I can’t imagine. And then, thinking about this, I confess I became quite agitated.”
“But what was he like, what did he say?” demanded Leighton. “It was a man, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, I am quite sure he was a man—a very tall man, and singularly dressed.”
“‘Singularly dressed?’”
“I thought so, at least. But then, I am not familiar with the fashions of this country. You see, it is very cold on the shores of the lake, and I should think that any one going there would want at least to be warmly clad. But this man had nothing on that I could see, except a long sort of toga, just like the pictures I have studied in Herodotus. It was looped up on one shoulder through what looked like a golden ring——”
“He dream! He dream! this leetle fellow!” laughed Miranda. “He is too good.”
“And this toga fell down to a point just below his knees. It was a purple and white toga—or perhaps I ought to call it a tunic—with a fringe of gold tassels. He had sandals on his bare feet and wore no trousers—at least, I could see none.”
“Caramba!”
“Really, Mr. Parmelee, you describe a very singular sort of person for this age and climate,” said Leighton coldly. “Are you sure that your agitated state of mind—you admit you were agitated—did not create a purely imaginary apparition?”