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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Court of Inquiry
+
+Author: Grace S. Richmond
+
+Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private
+Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends'"]
+
+
+
+
+A COURT
+OF INQUIRY
+
+By GRACE S. RICHMOND
+
+Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper,"
+"Second Violin," Etc.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
+
+114-120 East Twenty-third Street--New York
+
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
+
+
+
+
+_Copyright_, 1909, 1916, _by_
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+_All rights reserved, including that of
+translation into foreign languages,
+including the Scandinavian_
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+C. R. P. AND M. B. P.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+PART I
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+  I. Althea                               3
+ II. Camellia                            16
+III. Dahlia                              31
+ IV. Rhodora                             44
+  V. Azalea                              58
+ VI. Hepatica                            72
+
+
+PART II
+
+  I. Dahlia and the Professor            87
+ II. Camellia and the Judge             102
+III. Azalea and the Cashier             117
+ IV. Althea and the Promoter            131
+  V. Rhodora and the Preacher           146
+ VI. Wistaria--and the Philosopher      162
+
+
+PART III
+
+  I. Sixteen Miles to Boswell's         181
+ II. Honour and the Girl                220
+III. Their Word of Honour               241
+ IV. "Half a League Onward"             261
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+A Court of Inquiry
+and Other Tales
+
+I
+
+ALTHEA
+
+      Nothing impaired
+    but all disordered.
+    --_Midsummer Night's Dream._
+
+
+There are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how
+there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends
+is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were
+all full--and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And
+when I assign each room it is after taking thought.
+
+There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have
+belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them
+and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable.
+The third room is for one after another of the girls and women who
+visit me. The fourth room----
+
+"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?"
+
+It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be
+passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration,
+and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer
+astonishment.
+
+"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white
+cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed.
+
+"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume,"
+I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl
+friends. The trouble is----"
+
+"The trouble is--you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss
+Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not."
+
+I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd--shrewd though he often
+is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his
+imagination.
+
+"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those
+white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed,
+and--er--attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror,"
+he propounded.
+
+"I should send her home."
+
+"No--you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the
+Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all
+that whiteness."
+
+"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away
+downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back
+the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show
+between.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on
+the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the
+racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is
+one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her
+flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people frown, and
+because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality,
+as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to
+dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the
+long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the
+porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young eyes
+which see things.
+
+Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty
+embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought
+about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to
+have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of
+the girl's family.
+
+It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy,
+hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have
+about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it
+seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly
+all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink
+hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.
+
+"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
+and umbrella upon the bed.
+
+The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes
+before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a
+somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
+hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
+into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
+girls are made at home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and
+dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
+rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
+to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a
+touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's
+needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters
+looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty
+reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an
+embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
+work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
+handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
+should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The
+closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on
+padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small,
+smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was
+clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the
+place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best
+down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful
+custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know
+when she did it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no
+electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug
+whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which
+had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered
+a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out
+of my path.
+
+It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily
+stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered
+all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without
+a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp
+and looked around me.
+
+Well--of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for
+dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not
+judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights.
+I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the
+closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane,
+and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work
+quickly, and returned to lower the light.
+
+It couldn't be--really, no--it couldn't be! There must be some other way
+of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall,
+now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again
+and again before it struck into light!
+
+It _couldn't_ have been Althea. Yet--those marks were never there
+before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have
+had no need for artificial light. Wait--there lay a long, black object
+on the white cover of the dressing-table--a curling iron!
+
+In the hall I ran into the Skeptic.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her
+scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?"
+
+"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood
+outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf.
+I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly.
+
+"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I
+could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp.
+"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the
+dressing-table. "Oh, no--this must be--a sash," said he, and dropped it.
+He stood looking about him.
+
+"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it."
+
+"I don't think you will," said he, "in this--er--this--pandemonium."
+
+I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you
+go away?" said I.
+
+"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over
+something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind
+about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to
+walk--the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"--as he moved toward the
+staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move the
+Philosopher in to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different.
+Please reserve your judgment."
+
+I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until
+the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where
+five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over
+upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink
+adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed
+plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter
+writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best
+towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not
+help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to
+her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door
+interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a
+bushel-basket.
+
+"Want some help?" offered he.
+
+"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.
+
+"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the
+hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I
+couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of
+the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to
+count the things on that dressing----"
+
+"It was _very_ ungentlemanly of you!"
+
+"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his
+eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take
+notes like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the
+Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how
+it looks inside--by the Gay Lady herself."
+
+"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean--how
+can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in
+order?--for she certainly does."
+
+"I knew it," said he triumphantly.
+
+"But how?"
+
+"And I know that you keep yours in order."
+
+"But _how_?"
+
+"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can
+see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of
+her collar with a common brass pin----"
+
+I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but
+his eyes are so keen and----
+
+He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."
+
+"She has many lovely qualities----" I began.
+
+"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
+makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----"
+
+The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
+above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his
+bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a
+minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive
+for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.
+
+"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely
+qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have,
+which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has
+a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on which I do not think the
+marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to
+this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for
+the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling
+irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt
+that she would like that room quite as well.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CAMELLIA
+
+    You thought to break a country heart
+    For pastime, ere you went to town.
+    --_Tennyson._
+
+
+"Did you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the
+Gay Lady.
+
+"For a few days," I assented.
+
+The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which
+hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon.
+She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me
+with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is
+here?" she asked.
+
+"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses
+myself."
+
+I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short
+visit on her way home from the South," I announced.
+
+The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my
+trousers to be pressed."
+
+"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from
+his book.
+
+"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic.
+
+"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little
+information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be
+pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in
+men's attire?"
+
+"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At
+sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my
+shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when
+Miss Camellia is here."
+
+"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly.
+
+"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her,"
+he added.
+
+The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It
+was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon
+your scientist. "Do _you_ dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is here?"
+he asked of me. "That is--I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat
+of us?"
+
+"I think I won't--before she comes," I said. "Afterward--I get out the
+best I have."
+
+"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic.
+
+"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his
+white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after
+a moment.
+
+The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head.
+
+"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth
+it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and
+desolation. Brace up, Philo--she's certainly worth all the agony of mind
+she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love
+with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change
+and reminding myself that it's all I have--and it wouldn't buy her a
+handkerchief."
+
+The Gay Lady spent the morning freshening her frocks--which were
+somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It
+was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them
+had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless,
+and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and
+frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them.
+
+The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of
+other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear
+only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The
+Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that
+Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's
+appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive,
+gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of
+what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not
+strange, for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as
+always, charming.
+
+"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia
+was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about
+that to upset you all."
+
+"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say,
+he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown--or
+possibly in spangles and lace!
+
+Camellia went to her room--the white room. This time I had no fears for
+the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white
+wall. I repaired to my own room--_to dress for dinner_. As I passed the
+porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished--so had the
+Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down--in white ducks. He
+hailed me as I passed.
+
+"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all
+guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while--while Miss Camellia
+is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it--if he's not bluffing. Is it
+true? Do you mean it? We--that is--we haven't been dressing for
+dinner--except, of course, you ladies seem always to--but that's
+different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively.
+
+"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we
+should--in the country--in July."
+
+He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to--really?"
+
+"I presume he really is. You see--he has met Camellia before. He knows
+how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very
+much, and he might possibly feel a little odd--in tennis flannels----"
+
+"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be
+behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered
+lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its
+loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs.
+
+We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put
+on a white muslin--the finest, simplest thing. The Philosopher, pushing
+a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process
+had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he
+whispered to her, "she can't win over you."
+
+The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the
+porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat--I saw it in
+his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade--he looked as
+if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she
+smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to
+make her feel like a school-girl--she had repeatedly avowed it to me
+in private.
+
+Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire--that could always
+truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as
+duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of
+the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be
+unconscious of it.
+
+The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher,
+whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well
+up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked
+ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat
+might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than
+usual--somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's
+guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool
+recesses of the porch.
+
+The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white--one
+which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before
+seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took
+Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a
+yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she
+came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat
+had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her
+dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were
+nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting there in the frock she had
+put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and
+the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the
+Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses
+he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove.
+
+On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a
+little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes
+suspiciously misty.
+
+"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through
+the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look
+so--so--_duddy_--beside hers."
+
+"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My
+very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems
+countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again--next
+week."
+
+"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she.
+
+"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly.
+
+What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for
+the sanity of the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was
+eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers'
+pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to
+remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the
+Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific
+eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the
+Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters.
+
+In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us.
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels--it had grown
+slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a
+week--and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After
+dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were
+more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo
+lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a
+relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which
+seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior.
+
+The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing
+on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly
+at his friend.
+
+"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it."
+
+"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were
+worth--millions."
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher.
+
+The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances--through the twilight. We would
+have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts.
+
+"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane--only delirious. It'll
+wear off."
+
+"It will," agreed the Philosopher.
+
+"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence,
+"that it's really mostly clothes."
+
+"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame
+you."
+
+"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you
+think her clothes are about all there is of her?"
+
+"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly.
+
+"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably.
+
+"Yes--and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me.
+
+"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the
+hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this
+unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their
+contents----Look here"--he paused in front of me and looked at me as
+piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the
+twilight--"did she ever wear the same thing twice?"
+
+"I believe not," I admitted.
+
+"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of
+herself in clothes that any fool could see cost--Cæsar, what must they
+cost!--and change four times a day--and keep us dancing around in
+starched collars----"
+
+"You didn't have to----"
+
+"Yes, we did--pardon me! We did, not to be innocently--not
+insolently--mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would
+keep a man humping to furnish the wherewithal. For what," continued the
+Philosopher, growing very earnest--"what, if she'd wear that sort of
+clothes here, would she consider necessary for--for--visiting her rich
+friends? Tell me that!"
+
+We could not tell him that. We did not try.
+
+The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into
+plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's
+present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let
+appear to anybody.
+
+The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair.
+
+"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady.
+
+They sauntered slowly away into the twilight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Philosopher came and sat down by me.
+
+"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset.
+I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But
+when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here
+together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I
+have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her
+clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored.
+Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?"
+
+"Lovely," I agreed heartily.
+
+"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I
+should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less
+than Miss Camellia's."
+
+"Considerably."
+
+"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't
+suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes--unless
+he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced
+to--eh?"
+
+"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the
+Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.
+
+"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time
+speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is on
+this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a
+July evening!"
+
+The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as he
+came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall,
+looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had
+been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her
+smile, I doubted if he had been bored.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+DAHLIA
+
+    O, weary fa' the women fo'k,
+      For they winna let a body be!
+    --_James Hogg._
+
+
+My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch
+of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her
+father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite
+of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that
+there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's
+long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista
+of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she
+appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across
+the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles,
+and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear
+in the country.
+
+Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points
+of view. If only----
+
+"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher,
+looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific
+aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends
+so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom
+finds much left in which to fish.
+
+The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a
+gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched
+himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch.
+
+"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once
+knowing, you'll always know."
+
+The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information,
+and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped
+his eyes to his trout flies.
+
+The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily
+extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business communication
+in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew
+his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her
+first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him.
+
+"Oh--how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet
+and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to
+pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said
+something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers
+clinging to his.
+
+"Been--er--horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his
+hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did.
+
+I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her
+from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I
+presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies.
+She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking
+(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she
+dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely
+offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better,
+and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
+remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
+his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
+asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which
+showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
+observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."
+
+Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
+expression.
+
+The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.
+
+"You will excuse----" he began.
+
+But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she
+said softly.
+
+"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
+think, myself."
+
+Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at
+least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.
+
+"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
+disappointed child.
+
+I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I
+observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is
+invariably courteous.
+
+"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's
+rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks
+considerably, but----"
+
+"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with
+delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a
+look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it
+failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my
+sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called
+back to us, as the two walked away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His
+face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon
+know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't
+think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick
+work!"
+
+He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he
+inquired, still chuckling.
+
+"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery
+without looking up.
+
+"Will you go fishing?"
+
+The inquiry was directed at me.
+
+I shook my head.
+
+The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm
+going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared.
+"I want to see Philo when she----"
+
+The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?"
+she asked.
+
+The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the
+trout stream.
+
+Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia
+was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had
+rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to
+luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very
+gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic,
+and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in
+speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in
+Dahlia's case.
+
+After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually
+deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which
+has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the
+pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch
+the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went
+out by the pantry door.
+
+On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look
+after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."
+
+He hastened away down the driveway.
+
+Dahlia looked after him.
+
+"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing!
+And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and
+see him."
+
+And she hurried away after the Skeptic.
+
+"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her
+expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.
+
+"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.
+
+We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.
+
+The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the
+side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had
+turned down the slats tightly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the
+white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The
+Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict,
+and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a
+seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away
+down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the
+house beyond the hedge.
+
+Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of
+golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an
+hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was
+forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without
+warning, some twenty minutes earlier.
+
+She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically
+took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a
+trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally
+overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the
+library door, toward the last of the evening.
+
+"You've got to take her home to-night, old man."
+
+"I won't." It was the Philosopher.
+
+"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking."
+
+"I'll be hanged if I will."
+
+"I'll be hanged if _I_ will. There's a limit."
+
+"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be."
+
+"Come along--stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She
+can't carry you off bodily."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim.
+
+So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed
+with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in
+settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled
+it somehow.
+
+When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both
+accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any
+previous occasion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men.
+Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention
+than we were accustomed to expect--the two men were too busy standing by
+each other to have much time for us.
+
+"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth
+evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm
+simply not allowed to refuse."
+
+The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his
+head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his
+satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down and
+elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly,
+and said, "That's surely very nice for you."
+
+"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the
+Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a
+farewell walk to-night. You first"--she indicated the Philosopher. "Or
+shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?"
+
+She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been
+no way out for him.
+
+"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a
+conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice
+of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for
+mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther
+takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll
+wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly."
+
+Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had
+not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce
+him, and the Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well
+away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among
+some bushes.
+
+"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's
+over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such
+easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the
+Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet.
+
+"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently.
+
+"We haven't! Why not?"
+
+She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as
+before, but quite firmly.
+
+The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't
+know----"
+
+"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely
+evening?"
+
+"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It
+would be delightful on the river."
+
+She shook her head again.
+
+"Not nicer than here," she answered.
+
+The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the
+Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the
+Philosopher to lean upon.
+
+"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.
+
+"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be
+clear in."
+
+"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.
+
+He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.
+
+The Gay Lady rose.
+
+"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice.
+"Good-night."
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even
+after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall.
+
+"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that
+sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may
+possibly think they're in the same class."
+
+I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out
+between them.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+RHODORA
+
+    Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
+    --_Gray._
+
+
+This morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from
+Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong
+to us exclusively--she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all
+of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora
+is a new granddaughter of the old lady--by which I mean to say that
+Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl
+arrived to pay her a visit.
+
+"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily
+upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought
+I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her."
+
+Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It
+was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as
+the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own.
+But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a
+gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright,
+and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself.
+
+The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor
+into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed
+her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then
+she sat by her, listening and talking--doing much more listening than
+talking--leaving Rhodora to me.
+
+"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with
+them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and
+won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them."
+
+"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora.
+
+"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's
+point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I
+believe."
+
+"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?"
+
+"Fifteen."
+
+"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while
+lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if
+she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady.
+
+"How old is she?" she inquired.
+
+"I have never asked her."
+
+"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never
+settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she
+observed sagely.
+
+I opened my lips--and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about
+ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests--if
+one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking
+observations upon Rhodora.
+
+She was decidedly a handsome girl--handsome seems the word. She was
+rather large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat
+strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her
+arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her
+arms were considerably in evidence.
+
+"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my
+little black silk bag from the carriage?"
+
+"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she
+inquired of me.
+
+The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to
+search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away
+down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the
+carriage. She came back bringing it.
+
+"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have
+repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling
+that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person, and that,
+in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as
+girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute
+for one.
+
+The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I
+understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine
+oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by
+dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted
+two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of
+stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could
+quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora
+accepted them and did her best.
+
+When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to
+the white room.
+
+"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her
+white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong
+one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time.
+Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to peer over her shoulder, and
+seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow,
+as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's
+delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in
+astonishment.
+
+"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself.
+
+Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used
+one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung
+all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel,
+and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its
+rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag.
+Rhodora caught sight of it.
+
+"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've
+lost mine, I'm afraid."
+
+Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely
+embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from
+her bag.
+
+"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way.
+
+Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day,"
+she assured the handkerchief's owner.
+
+I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took
+Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and
+tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt
+from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the
+distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon
+Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the
+window, keeping guard.
+
+"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's
+first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the
+figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and
+came over to the couch and bent down, smiling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry.
+Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared
+presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most
+disreputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty
+of water, in the twinkling of an eye.
+
+They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were
+summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The
+Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and
+followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table
+she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever
+springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The
+old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she
+was accustomed.
+
+At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner
+she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were
+too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora,
+beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately
+afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most
+interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did
+now. We were all charmed with her clever way of putting things, her
+shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general.
+
+After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch.
+The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close
+by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen
+between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to.
+The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly,
+but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black
+eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle.
+
+I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour
+she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I
+spoke to them.
+
+"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I
+ever saw."
+
+"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter.
+"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as
+well--I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old."
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the
+evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her--she
+is an admirable player--but he beat her until he discovered that she was
+growing very much annoyed--then he allowed her to win the last set by a
+game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his
+breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the
+garden and over the place generally.
+
+"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said
+Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken
+their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and
+the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own.
+
+Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old
+people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to
+the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be."
+
+"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the
+Philosopher, in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most
+beautiful old lady I ever saw."
+
+"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old
+persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps."
+
+The Philosopher opened his mouth--and closed it again, quite as I had
+done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I
+should judge he was thinking: "After all--what's the use?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother
+was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind
+her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a
+great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she
+coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its
+black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a
+minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish
+expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then,
+years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he
+wanted to kiss her, but we were all looking on, and they had known each
+other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the
+little scene which touched us all--except Rhodora, who exclaimed:
+
+"Gracious, Grandmother--I suppose that brings back the days when you had
+lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is,
+anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!"
+
+The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag
+of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with
+Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our
+hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away
+with her down the driveway.
+
+"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of
+sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house,
+"that a girl like that can't see herself."
+
+"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as
+old as the Gay Lady----"
+
+"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic, looking ahead at the Gay
+Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house.
+"The two are no more the same sort--than----" he looked toward the
+garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found
+it, when searching after similes for the women he knows--"than those
+yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like--a clump of hepaticas that you
+find in the woods in spring."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone
+in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat
+silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to
+follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight--if they did she
+would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to
+hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything
+to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but
+before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again.
+
+"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music
+stopped, "I used to pick out men to admire and follow about, and
+consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How
+could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady
+and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?"
+
+"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one
+of them."
+
+The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing
+than that," said he.
+
+Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had
+stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my
+attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a
+sentimental mood.
+
+"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried,
+when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night.
+
+"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted.
+
+He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have
+anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods,"
+said he.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+AZALEA
+
+    It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion.
+    --_Arthur Christopher Benson._
+
+
+"The heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's
+room. "Cook is ill--I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little
+waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding."
+
+"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at
+the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she
+made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a
+blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry--I'll be down in three
+minutes," she assured me cheerily.
+
+I found Lad building the kitchen fire--in the country we do not have gas
+ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy
+way camping last year."
+
+Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a
+feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had
+helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the
+cream.
+
+Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a
+delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is
+very clever and entertaining--everybody likes her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the
+breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher
+and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we
+should get on very well.
+
+"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I
+flatter myself I can do as well as the next man--or woman. Consider me
+at your service."
+
+"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And--I say--don't fuss
+too much. Have a cold lunch--bread and milk, you know, or something
+like that."
+
+I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five
+years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant--and those were
+happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for
+both the Gay Lady's pretty hands--they were very accomplished in
+household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham.
+
+"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table.
+
+"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready
+for you."
+
+The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying
+anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed.
+
+"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You
+remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster."
+
+From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt
+Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen
+into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood,
+every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear Azalea play. In the
+evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast,
+and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was
+listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as
+I went about the "upstairs work"--work that the Skeptic, with all his
+good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain
+thresholds--that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go
+away next week.
+
+The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so
+much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners
+are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our
+régime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt
+our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of
+the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay
+Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many
+steps and the exercise of some tact--Cook having been fully persuaded
+all day that her end was near.
+
+"I have told her six times that people don't die of lumbago," said the
+Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written
+three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have
+to write her last will and testament."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own
+documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she
+did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party
+of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves
+upon us with warm greetings--and hungry looks toward our dining-room.
+
+"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the
+kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we
+had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and
+left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons
+as could be done without a full bath--"why didn't you send them on to
+the village inn? Of all the nerve!--and you don't know any of them
+intimately, do you?"
+
+I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I
+admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you
+suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some
+beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak
+is what they must have--porterhouse--since I've not enough broilers in
+the ice-box to go around that hungry company."
+
+"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my
+ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just
+sitting on the porch, looking pretty."
+
+"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded,
+without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat
+the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other
+things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things
+with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked
+at her appreciatively.
+
+"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to
+himself as he swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with
+Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her
+devotedly.
+
+We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off,"
+commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the
+broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white
+breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the
+manner of the unselfish host.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They
+looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for
+two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they
+always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running
+many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our
+hospitality--two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and
+drink before they could get up steam with which to start--the Gay Lady
+and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the
+state of things existing.
+
+"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon----" said I dejectedly, and did
+not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five
+extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that
+had been left in the house that would do for dinner--due now in three
+short hours.
+
+But the Gay Lady rallied nobly.
+
+"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt
+away in no time. Then--you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get
+any dinner to-night or not."
+
+The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a
+jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the
+occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling
+rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned
+that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help.
+
+"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a
+dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That
+delicate touch of yours--why, I never heard anybody who could play
+_pianissimo_--_legato_--_cantabile_--like you. You wouldn't break a
+spun-glass rainbow."
+
+Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry
+more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six.
+Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it
+to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old
+first-baseman."
+
+The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He
+had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor--which is of
+hardwood, with a centre rug--and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic
+jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea
+looked at them both wonderingly.
+
+"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she
+inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just
+lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them
+all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one.
+
+"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere,
+you know, that sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly
+to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off--don't you? See
+here"--he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See
+here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner
+to-night--with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are
+tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to
+do it faithfully."
+
+He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring
+suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could
+make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know
+whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had.
+
+"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of
+china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is
+even to mention dinner in my presence."
+
+The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I
+should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I
+think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them is
+that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this----"
+
+I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay
+Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop
+the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she
+disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do
+but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the
+contents in through the window.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains,
+and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she
+dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again--I don't know why. I
+wondered casually what he would give for one like it.
+
+When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into
+thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my
+door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all
+ready," he was calling.
+
+I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wondering. I went down to preside at
+the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady--in white
+muslin, with cheeks like roses--seemed not in the least fatigued. The
+Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces
+win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious.
+Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful.
+
+When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order--matters which were
+dispatched like wildfire--we gathered upon the porch as usual.
+
+"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady
+presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a
+cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to
+melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear,
+after all those dishes?"
+
+"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea.
+
+The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his
+request to the Gay Lady's.
+
+The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion.
+
+"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and
+evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous
+with your great art----"
+
+"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly.
+
+I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful
+speaking voice, as singers are apt to have.
+
+Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise--and anxiety. Azalea
+was a very lovely girl--nobody had meant to hurt her.
+
+Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier
+than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant.
+
+"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would
+give--years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing
+Beethoven's '_Adelaide_.'"
+
+"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though
+more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the
+half-lit living room.
+
+"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's
+face, in the way he has when he wants to say things very much but is
+doubtful how she will take them--a condition he is frequently in.
+
+She shook her head--I think she must have been smiling. It was so
+evident--that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her
+own accomplishments----
+
+But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said.
+
+So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic
+heard.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+HEPATICA
+
+    Here's metal more attractive.
+    --_Hamlet._
+
+
+The Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us
+remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner
+without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite
+of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if
+anything were wrong.
+
+When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first
+to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I
+didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference--till she got
+away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a
+joke."
+
+"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the
+Philosopher, laying a friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood
+on the porch step below him.
+
+"You do--if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice
+what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and
+laugh too--to please her, I suppose," he added.
+
+The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty
+sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before
+that I take my cue from the Gay Lady--or from any one else--when it
+comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't
+laugh--all by myself."
+
+Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean
+it. She always means it. Besides--she thinks things are funny that you
+don't. She's 'most as good as a boy--and I don't see how she can be,
+either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one."
+
+"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's
+essentially feminine, if ever a girl was."
+
+"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl. That is--I thought she
+was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven."
+
+The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was
+puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the
+sunset--which was unusually fine that evening--gave utterance to a deep
+note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever
+there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it
+was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks--even the blooming
+youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not
+made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means
+what is known as a "beauty."
+
+"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this
+summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no
+doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his
+hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand
+her," he added resentfully.
+
+The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who
+could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his
+mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by
+Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women
+behind their backs.
+
+"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has
+surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out
+on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little
+ships for you----"
+
+"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get
+a man!"
+
+The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently.
+Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly
+removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch
+step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I
+shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after
+some small puppies down there in the hay.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and
+the others made a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless
+and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an
+invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher
+consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with
+formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman
+lets a man go--that he may return.
+
+They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my
+feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they
+were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad
+had introduced.
+
+"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it
+would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?"
+
+"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at
+me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with
+their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a
+comparatively small amount of money."
+
+"Is she one of them?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see,
+I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an
+observant eye on--on these young ladies you've had here from time to
+time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you
+mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well
+brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future--I mean for the
+next few years after school?--I don't know that I make myself clear.
+What I want to get at is--You see, the great thing a young chap thinks
+about is what he is going to make of himself--and how to do it. It
+struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any
+particular end in view--at least, that ever came out in her
+conversation."
+
+I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious.
+
+The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his
+hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great
+pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He
+who runs may read."
+
+The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from
+the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and
+last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran--unless you have
+eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me
+believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they
+wouldn't do some of the things they do."
+
+"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before,
+in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold
+forth upon this subject.
+
+"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly--to my great
+surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of
+the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it--in public--in private.
+Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage.
+If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer
+did that thing, each in her own way."
+
+I thought about them--one after another. It was true. Each had, in her
+own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the Gay Lady, than whom
+nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the
+foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And
+somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes,
+quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady
+had happened to be.
+
+We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations,
+though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at
+an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In
+fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we
+continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could
+venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one
+another.
+
+On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on
+my walking with him in the garden.
+
+"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite
+as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return.
+
+"I can hardly wait," said I.
+
+"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I knew I should miss her,
+but--smoke and ashes!--I didn't dream the week would be a period of time
+long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and
+back again."
+
+"If she could only hear that!" said I.
+
+"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's
+kept me quiet all summer, but--by a man's impatience!--she can't keep me
+quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look
+intently at me through the September twilight.
+
+"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad
+grows up."
+
+"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on
+my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as
+looks go. But in mind--and heart--well, the only thing is, I'm so far
+below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly
+sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to
+put my finger on what makes her what she is--I can't tell."
+
+"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done
+it--womanly sweetness and strength. Hepatica is--Hepatica. And being
+that, we love her."
+
+"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it
+a grip which stung.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until
+evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall
+as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment
+and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the
+doorway.
+
+She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into
+mine, and I heard her eager whisper--"I'm so glad to get back to _you!_"
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little
+fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other
+like--well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals.
+The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first,
+and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best
+friend, had never allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had
+detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion
+of what might have happened if he had let it, but--there was only a very
+warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked
+back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see
+anything else.
+
+She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and
+you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was
+another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and
+from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human
+habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling
+dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks,
+and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had
+made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near
+crying, and said there was never such another place as this.
+
+"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and
+received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give.
+
+All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and
+waited--he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the
+porch with the others she was there--and not a minute after.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee.
+Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The
+Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite
+unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail
+at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence,
+had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river.
+
+"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat
+breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his
+having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn
+proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"
+
+"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and
+tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."
+
+Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My
+sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.
+
+An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat
+down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious
+to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as
+it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly
+recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense--with joy.
+
+"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down."
+
+I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep
+shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the
+time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR
+
+      Amen
+    Stuck in my throat.
+    --_Macbeth._
+
+
+The Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a
+beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over
+all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my
+country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to
+allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my
+hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter
+in the country--connected by trolley with the town--is hardly less
+delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing
+arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit
+in the heart of the season.
+
+On the first morning at breakfast--I had arrived late the night
+before--there was much to talk about.
+
+"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown
+coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I
+discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you
+that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other----"
+
+"You--avoiding!" I interpolated.
+
+"Well--I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three
+of those girls are married and living in town."
+
+"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who
+else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?"
+
+"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The
+Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then
+they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic
+announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses."
+
+I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next
+neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but there had
+been no announcement of any engagement--nor sign of one.
+
+The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he
+considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised,"
+he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and
+though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight
+of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be
+walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled
+in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."
+
+"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?"
+
+The Skeptic nodded solemnly.
+
+"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before
+yesterday he was free!"
+
+He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and
+hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A
+minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at
+the window, was returning his wave.
+
+"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds
+heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably
+rather thinning."
+
+"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the
+Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.
+
+"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty
+breakfast we had just consumed.
+
+"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't
+it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was
+literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely
+how it happened."
+
+"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to
+see them."
+
+"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term--he couldn't take her
+away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you
+were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours."
+
+We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon
+them. The Philosopher came in that evening--he had known of my coming
+from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He was looking
+rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and
+altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand,
+and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a
+beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert
+to be given on the following evening.
+
+We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and
+dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You
+feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried.
+
+The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed;
+upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think
+it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time
+when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within
+call from the porch all the way."
+
+But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over
+old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through
+Germany, and he and I had not met for many months.
+
+We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There
+was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the
+change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as
+in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers
+and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for
+nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our
+old friendship--as there could be nothing more satisfactory.
+
+We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past
+Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle
+and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us.
+I turned to the Philosopher.
+
+"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed
+interestedly that way.
+
+As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been
+turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening
+coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality,
+and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The
+Professor--eighteen years Dahlia's senior, but one of the best men who
+ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered--turned and
+scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling
+recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia
+continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time
+with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear,
+though he did not again turn toward us.
+
+As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we
+fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them
+somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of
+dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair
+seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's
+luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly
+that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in
+itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with----
+
+The Skeptic leaned forward again.
+
+"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a flirtation with her to-night, if
+I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper.
+
+"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled.
+
+"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn
+tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade
+later than his. If I were only sitting next her!"
+
+At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to
+the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia
+stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed
+the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings
+with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome
+person, was at Dahlia's elbow.
+
+For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well,
+perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a
+proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both
+sides of him?"
+
+I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous
+conductor of a famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the
+stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the
+audience we became silent.
+
+But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the
+eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The
+Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties
+of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the
+bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her
+undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an
+able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was
+half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme
+which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old
+game with a trained hand.
+
+"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear,
+during an intermission.
+
+"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a
+devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't mean anything to
+her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit."
+
+"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the
+Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man
+at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a
+conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly
+way--and confine it to the intervals between numbers--one might be able
+to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of
+hers--those smiles, those archings of the neck--those lengthy looks up
+into the eyes of that fool----"
+
+"Don't look at them," I advised.
+
+"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at
+them--including yourself."
+
+It was quite true--everybody was, even people considerably out of range.
+If Dahlia herself was conscious of this--and I'm sure she must have
+been--she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is
+even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her
+when we had owned to all her attractiveness--"if only!"
+
+"After all," urged Hepatica, on the homeward way, "we've no right to
+judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them
+alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to
+come and see us very soon.--I suggested to-morrow night, so they will
+come then."
+
+"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher--quite before he was asked.
+
+So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear
+Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman
+in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for
+her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other
+men.
+
+"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the
+Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She
+accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which
+gave life to her remarks.
+
+"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the
+Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone.
+
+"You used to have better luck when you went alone," said Dahlia. "Do
+you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any
+fish our way?"
+
+"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river,
+first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the
+Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was
+fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the
+Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly.
+
+"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he.
+
+"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and
+see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to
+the Skeptic.
+
+"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the
+moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking
+is good there--keeps away the midges."
+
+"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that
+part of the country."
+
+"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in
+the evening, then," persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to
+settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was
+always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin."
+
+Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us
+to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly
+face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish
+demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to
+demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his
+side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself
+occupied--also quite as of old--with keeping out of her way. Altogether,
+it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the
+impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected
+suitors of her own.
+
+When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's
+backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair.
+
+"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?"
+he requested.
+
+But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his
+pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there.
+Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long
+shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only
+within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had
+caused them to separate.
+
+"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered
+remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?"
+
+"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as
+consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You
+couldn't have prevented his madness."
+
+"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage
+licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned
+the Philosopher.
+
+"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp
+under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with
+lemons and sugar and things."
+
+"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage
+is a failure."
+
+The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your
+marriage," he owned.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE
+
+    I am ashamed that women are so simple
+    To offer war when they should kneel for peace.
+    --_Taming of the Shrew._
+
+
+"We are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my
+hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note
+which the hall-boy had just brought to the door.
+
+The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over
+me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have
+I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who
+cares about as much what he wears as I do."
+
+"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica
+thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining.
+My dear, she has a butler."
+
+"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?"
+
+"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic
+warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't
+prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go
+there--particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's
+invited now?"
+
+"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care
+not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had.
+Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not
+exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What
+enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of
+that? Has it not been so for many years?--and will be so, I trust, for
+all to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we
+owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she
+put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and
+thought could make us. When we arrived we were doubly glad that this
+was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same
+feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been
+wont to do.
+
+Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked
+considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant
+engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant
+interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining,
+had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and
+her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her
+senior--quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's--but
+on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so
+pronounced.
+
+We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less
+strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right
+hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most
+interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in
+time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the
+length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more
+to eat than I wanted.
+
+[Illustration: "Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever"]
+
+"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives,
+to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men
+came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica
+and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into
+his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon
+to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two--if she
+were wise enough to heed it. Why two people--but I've just eaten their
+salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my
+accusing look, and forbore to say more.
+
+"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said
+Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of
+course--just some of our neighbours."
+
+I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the
+Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances
+up again.
+
+But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I
+doubt if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they
+don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do--however egotistic
+that may sound."
+
+"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the
+Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."--The Judge only lifted his
+handsome eyebrows.--"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia.
+"Mrs. Liscombe sings."
+
+The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above
+his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy
+hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should.
+
+"Harry Hodgson recites--we always have him when we want to make things
+go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among
+his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so
+likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about
+to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss his wife's
+tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came
+back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having
+sealed our fate for the succeeding evening.
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day--it was
+a legal holiday--with the Judge in his private den up on the third
+floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a
+big, bare room--this was her characterization--principally fireplace,
+easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place
+in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any
+sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from
+below stairs.
+
+"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I
+don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings
+here--when I don't actually force him to go out with me--and I spend
+mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the
+Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They
+understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that."
+
+She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife.
+I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view.
+Eccentric--because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and
+outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and
+his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings."
+I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite
+without having seen them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray.
+Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured
+them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part
+among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society
+of a company of town-bred squirrels.
+
+Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang,
+being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She
+possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be
+classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she
+took certain notes I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable
+sensation in the back of my neck.
+
+"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the
+Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and
+unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!"
+
+Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the
+drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor
+voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have
+to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first
+moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies
+were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led
+ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not
+quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the
+whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted.
+
+"Dear little fellow!"--it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let
+him go to war--and he so young and tender?"
+
+I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson after his final reading; I
+can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview
+could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the
+Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of
+music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by
+that grave and interested air of his--a slight frown of concentrated
+attention between his well-marked eyebrows--into thinking him deeply
+impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she
+delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which
+at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed
+absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully
+classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen.
+
+When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room,
+three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the
+Judge's den.
+
+"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe
+beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and
+trailing, loose garments, she came into my room through the door which
+we had discovered could be opened between our quarters.
+
+"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the
+leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?"
+
+"One cannot."
+
+Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof.
+
+"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the
+details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me.
+
+"So she has."
+
+"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?"
+
+"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to
+eat for a day or two after we go back?"
+
+"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica.
+
+"Mr. Hodgson's readings were--entirely new to me; were they to you? I
+had never heard of the authors."
+
+"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a
+trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so
+incessantly."
+
+"I shall be delighted," I agreed.
+
+I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck
+buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered
+laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under
+control.
+
+We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of
+his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went
+to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is
+worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a
+long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort.
+
+"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we
+came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth."
+
+Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached
+home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate--which is much
+better than none at all--and turned off the electrics. We sat before
+the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation.
+
+"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left
+their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of
+letting loose the dogs of war.
+
+"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute
+a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I
+think of the Judge----"
+
+"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the
+sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I.
+
+"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living
+upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of
+married happiness."
+
+The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his
+head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is
+the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man."
+
+"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I.
+
+"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They
+even befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember--till I
+discovered that not all is gold that----"
+
+"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We
+had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary
+paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all
+your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the
+fireworks to have full play."
+
+Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and
+drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never
+swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence.
+
+"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to
+lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home
+like this, it would help things any?"
+
+The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully.
+"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now,
+to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be
+absolute diversity of tastes."
+
+"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine
+clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife.
+
+"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him.
+
+"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is
+abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see
+something besides the shop-windows."
+
+"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica.
+
+The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him.
+
+"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the
+Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole
+up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.--It often
+lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the
+particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention.
+When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again,
+chuckling to myself."
+
+"What was it?" I asked.
+
+"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't
+have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher.
+
+"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic.
+But we knew he didn't think it.
+
+"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself.
+
+"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a
+most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens."
+
+"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+AZALEA AND THE CASHIER
+
+    A mother is a mother still,
+      The holiest thing alive.
+    --_S. T. Coleridge._
+
+
+"I am to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said
+good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that
+you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on
+account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but
+she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only
+chance I shall have to see her husband."
+
+"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the
+Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a
+musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time."
+
+"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much
+courage to marry her."
+
+"All right--we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be
+over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll
+be ready to start."
+
+"Thank you--it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied.
+
+The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned.
+"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room.
+
+"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call
+me if anything should detain Philo."
+
+I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly
+asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is
+nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at
+once was a bribe indeed.
+
+Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two
+children--the two-year-old--on her arm. He was evidently just ready for
+his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck
+temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm,
+pushing back the loose, curling locks from her forehead as she did so,
+explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the
+least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that,
+enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than
+she had been upon the porch at the Farm.
+
+I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing
+Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we
+went into the nursery--which had been the guest-room before the second
+baby came--so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump
+and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once--when his mother
+inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he
+smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small
+sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished
+with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a
+minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her
+away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to
+Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are
+heavenly!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had a busy day--made up of babies, with more or less talk between,
+which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put
+everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the
+day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children,
+also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the
+table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in
+the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close
+beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed
+all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened
+it.
+
+"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to
+hearing you sing this evening."
+
+"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has
+a splendid voice."
+
+"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too."
+
+"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never
+does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can
+never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or
+Dot. And that's not worth while."
+
+"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really
+can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher
+comes he will be so anxious to have you sing."
+
+"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't
+very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of
+course."
+
+She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested.
+So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go,
+followed and stood by her knee--on her trailing skirts. I don't know how
+she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did--at least subdued
+chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes
+before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the
+two small faces as she sang. And, of course, it was a lullaby which
+fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips.
+
+When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist.
+Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart
+like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light
+at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing
+lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by,
+was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no
+doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once.
+
+Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with
+a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with
+satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the
+welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow.
+I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for
+dinner a game in which the little child could join.
+
+[Illustration: "The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the
+grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee ... was quite
+irresistible"]
+
+But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The
+Cashier remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he
+excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I
+think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked
+away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived.
+
+I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and
+I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I
+cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are
+going to bed."
+
+"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know
+there were any babies."
+
+"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room.
+"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious
+mind of yours, instead of limiting it to----"
+
+"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex--quick!" commanded the
+Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they
+come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a
+bachelor to dine, anyhow?"
+
+I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had
+developed wonderfully.
+
+"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the
+Philosopher.
+
+"Not at all. I mean that she's----"
+
+But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about
+his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his
+dignity as he entered.
+
+"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher
+genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward
+the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you
+know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?"
+
+The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had
+a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at
+keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts
+to meet him at the sport.
+
+By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood,
+and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano.
+"Come, Arthur," she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of
+music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'"
+
+The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear,
+dear," he declared.
+
+She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think.
+Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing."
+
+"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing
+so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies."
+
+But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were
+specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company.
+Come, Arthur--please."
+
+So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid
+each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,'
+no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the
+summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we
+could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the
+babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea did not
+desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I
+cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to
+the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the
+Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary
+triumph. Then she turned about to us.
+
+"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped
+hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of
+this, but I could not equal it.
+
+"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are
+awake,"--and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really
+not imagine the two voices together.
+
+Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is
+good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled.
+
+"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd
+never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It
+needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a
+quality that will improve with cultivation."
+
+The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing
+for them, my girl," he commanded--and looking up at him again, Azalea
+obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the
+range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by
+and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet,
+half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle
+of a bar, and fled up the stairs.
+
+"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an
+expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too,
+"nothing really counts in this house but the babies."
+
+"They--and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently.
+
+The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes--and something else," he
+agreed with his bright smile.
+
+We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the
+door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the
+night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented.
+
+I looked up, too--at the nursery windows where the faintest of
+night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big
+enough, although it holds so much."
+
+"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than
+the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to
+hold Azalea's voice," he mused.
+
+"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I
+replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be
+wasted on a concert audience."
+
+"It seems a pleasant home."
+
+"It _is_ one."
+
+"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make
+pleasant homes."
+
+"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative
+of other arts?"
+
+"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to
+strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I
+believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?"
+
+"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her
+accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about
+Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell
+her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a
+one as even Hepatica's could be."
+
+"One thing is sure--as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in
+the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion
+for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for
+her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What--are we at our
+station already? I say--let's not make a quick trip by train--let's make
+a slow one, by cab."
+
+"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no--here comes our train."
+
+"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here
+without two alert chaperons--younger than myself," grumbled the
+Philosopher.
+
+"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my
+account."
+
+"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he.
+
+I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon
+the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats.
+
+"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER
+
+     What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more
+     interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than
+     because of the qualities that he does possess.
+     --_Arthur Christopher Benson._
+
+
+"'_Be it ever so humble_,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me,
+"'_there's no place like_----'"
+
+Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed
+warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night,
+and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were
+under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under
+their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent
+remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel
+Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived
+under it I'd----"
+
+But the Promoter was approaching us again, with the news that dinner
+had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me,
+Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic
+brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic,
+pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid
+him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of
+some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the
+well-known words concerning the humble home.
+
+"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I
+had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect
+from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?"
+
+We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The
+Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene
+with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder
+dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving
+line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an
+apostrophe on the magnificence before him which would have alienated
+Althea and her husband forevermore.
+
+"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the
+Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name,
+and I think none of us were able to recognize it.
+
+"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It
+seems stout."
+
+"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added
+the Promoter.
+
+"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the
+Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.
+
+In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing
+an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening
+finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining
+hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the
+first impression sink in.
+
+"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of
+course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy
+this better. There's nothing like it anywhere. It's absolutely
+cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here
+to-night--are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice
+the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the
+iron magnate. With his party is a French actress--worshipped on both
+sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled."
+
+A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our
+places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive
+orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then
+raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I
+suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither
+of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.
+
+The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and
+puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat
+and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns
+the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of
+being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining
+under such auspices.
+
+Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The
+Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the
+time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her
+simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink,
+embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea
+devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on
+very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under
+cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk.
+
+"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of
+millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note
+due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and
+minnows--and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at
+the next gulp----What in the name of time is this we're eating now?"
+
+I expressed my ignorance.
+
+"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!"
+
+He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from
+an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was
+not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers--also for the third time.
+A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused
+only the first offering of the waiter.
+
+The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised
+contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome
+those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's
+not another in the room."
+
+If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the
+brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said
+I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose
+high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my
+left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage
+and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head
+was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine.
+
+The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great
+_coups_ made by men who had the daring.
+
+"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the
+Philosopher.
+
+"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're
+not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can
+win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide."
+
+Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of
+the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop
+out of the heads of these simple people."
+
+"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat.
+Think of living in a place like this--having this every day--common,
+like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and
+johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French
+name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it.
+I say--the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?"
+
+We had been late in coming down, and at many tables people were nearing
+the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had
+been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more
+distant tables.
+
+"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I
+shall never be able to make it seem to me just--just----"
+
+"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the
+present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly
+led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men."
+
+After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I
+felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of
+air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us--a
+private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place
+to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of
+entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness
+was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her
+carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes for
+our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of
+personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of
+hostelries like the Amazon.
+
+Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle
+silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company
+of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time
+to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision
+growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found
+myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic--but
+the Skeptic was incorrigible.
+
+"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to
+buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I
+have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have
+to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request
+him to insert it in the slit for me?"
+
+The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he.
+"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe deep when they go by
+it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge."
+
+The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said
+he, "where it's more highly charged."
+
+At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many
+floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator,
+padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's
+eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the
+realization that some time we should be out and away together in the
+fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to
+see things from the Philosopher's point of view.
+
+We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic
+passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the
+wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly
+humming an air. It was, "_Be it ever so humble_," again.
+
+The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and
+sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire of gas-logs.
+There were a few--not many--apparently personal belongings about the
+rooms; _bric-à-brac_ and photographs--the latter mostly of actors and
+opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which
+reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few
+years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the
+effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me.
+She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless.
+
+We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales
+of the great strokes of business he had brought off--"deals," he called
+them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of
+revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we
+should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not
+guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular
+novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could
+I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish
+material for conversation. I tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a
+certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself
+comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud
+to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was
+not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set
+high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must,
+perforce--for he needs a strong light for reading--have stood close
+under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to
+fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening--or appearing to
+listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it
+up.
+
+At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the
+Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink.
+This really seemed superfluous, and--judging by the straightforward gait
+of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits--there is
+no doubt that it was.
+
+Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from
+the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent
+his gaze upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths
+of the frosty air.
+
+"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's
+a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined--but
+it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best
+clothes on, perpetually going to a fair."
+
+"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher,
+"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of
+stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for
+the development of something else."
+
+"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private
+dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample
+of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the
+grill-room, all by yourself--then you can find out what he is when he's
+after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears
+stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he
+pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to
+live at the Amazon."
+
+"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica.
+
+"Likes it down to the ground--and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic.
+"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping--and picking up her room,"
+he added softly to Hepatica--but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply.
+
+"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on,
+"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that
+feast of porpoises."
+
+"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned
+aside into quieter streets.
+
+"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables
+to-night--with four exceptions."
+
+"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other
+wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from
+your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were
+inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't
+flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were
+moments during that meal when any unprejudiced observer who didn't know
+you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other
+engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt."
+
+"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught
+sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table
+and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of
+course. Our set, you know!'"
+
+"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then--it's the ladies who did
+succeed in looking like visitants from another world."
+
+This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to
+wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she
+really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which
+had been three times made over.
+
+"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly
+old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some
+other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!"
+
+"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+RHODORA AND THE PREACHER
+
+      When the fight begins within himself
+    A man's worth something.
+    --_Robert Browning._
+
+
+The Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it
+had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with
+us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As
+Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished.
+
+The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which
+was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically
+under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent
+to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her
+father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion,
+been glad to let her have the girl to bring up--or to finish bringing
+up--according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there
+could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To
+that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself.
+
+"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she
+made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never
+occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant
+then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say
+was the name of the unfortunate chap?"
+
+"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter.
+
+"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have
+developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a
+basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily.
+
+"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a
+girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's
+influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?"
+
+The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the
+education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the
+conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk
+ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those
+things--in time--unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to
+learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay."
+
+"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And
+the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel----"
+
+She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The
+Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished.
+
+"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw
+either of them but once."
+
+"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the
+Skeptic.
+
+"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl----"
+
+"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic. "The Old Lady. She has never
+ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As
+I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as
+your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she
+undoubtedly once was.--Well, well--a preacher! What has Rhodora become
+that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not
+easily blinded!"
+
+"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter
+says a young clergyman."
+
+"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister.
+He's just a preacher--a raw youth, just out of college--knows as much
+about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a
+hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well--I suppose this
+means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica.
+
+"It does, of course," she admitted.
+
+"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to
+carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the use of a
+preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying
+wedding gifts, according to my observation."
+
+The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to
+Grandmother's lovely old country home--a stately house upon the banks of
+a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the
+one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora
+and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The
+wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests
+as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before
+they should go upstairs to dress.
+
+Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand
+the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair
+before their marriage.
+
+Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In
+her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving
+everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can
+never feel one's self out of debt to her hospitality. Her greeting to
+the Philosopher was an especially cordial one.
+
+"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted
+to see you again--not merely because I have heard of you in the world
+where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice
+to my granddaughter, to have you see her again."
+
+Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora
+herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and
+graceful tread, was giving us welcome.
+
+It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had
+been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry
+rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having
+classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression
+sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that
+to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been
+undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that
+they considered a miracle had been wrought.
+
+As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to
+do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she
+would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they
+had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even
+yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain
+type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of
+the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had
+not become that thing.
+
+Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down
+his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he
+was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even--in the sense that the
+Skeptic had differentiated these terms--but a preacher--and an embryo
+one at that--a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward,
+clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good
+in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but
+lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon
+after the dignities of his ordination, but--one could not tell how--one
+began to believe in him at once.
+
+"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking
+together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit--except a little mission work a
+few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put
+on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first
+drill. But--I mean to count one!"
+
+"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in
+the sight.
+
+"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and
+two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve."
+
+"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should
+think she would make an efficient comrade."
+
+His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by
+Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a
+group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise
+centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put
+herself in the background. Although she towered above the little old
+lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed
+a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown
+with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate
+face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at
+Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in
+the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient
+element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this
+old-time gentlewoman.
+
+"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in
+my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could
+set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a
+girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth
+while herself. They are great chums, you know--it's quite unusual, I
+think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother.
+I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew."
+
+"She's a very rare and adorable old lady," I agreed heartily. "We all
+worship her--we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for
+any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora--she will miss her."
+
+"No doubt of that," he agreed--but, quite naturally, more with triumph
+than with sympathy.
+
+We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were
+dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square,
+upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint
+and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew
+some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in
+our wedding garments.
+
+"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic,
+forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the
+possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell
+me--will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?"
+
+"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her
+pleasure in his pride.
+
+"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his
+friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of
+her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a
+dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down.
+Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she
+were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she
+endured but was horribly bored by us?"
+
+"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to
+be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is
+different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis
+of Rhodora."
+
+"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica.
+
+"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as
+every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss
+Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out
+polished members of society. But there's been more than that."
+
+"The Preacher himself?" I suggested.
+
+The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised
+eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of
+acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative
+influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course."
+
+"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?"
+
+The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly.
+
+"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic.
+
+"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied
+the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?"
+
+"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic.
+"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand
+in the reformation?"
+
+"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which
+he comes--he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see
+that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training--boy as he looks.
+How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared
+for him?"
+
+The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired.
+
+"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to
+me--and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very
+clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far--very
+far--we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate
+of life. Therefore--you must be very careful how you use your influence
+with us!"
+
+The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two
+belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our
+hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?"
+
+The Philosopher smiled--inscrutably. Probably he felt that an
+inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these.
+
+We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while
+he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened
+again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora
+made a bonny bride. The absurd vision I had had of her, ever since I
+had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating
+clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself,
+melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made
+her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the
+conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace.
+
+"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing,
+as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to
+me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of
+barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and
+he"--her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband--"would
+never have dreamed of looking at me."
+
+"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle
+way, "from many girls of this day."
+
+"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that
+only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was."
+
+"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what
+you could be. And now--I must lose you."
+
+The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and
+Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added
+themselves.
+
+It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the
+others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had
+adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to
+want to see things clearly to-day.
+
+"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said
+he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the
+participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a
+small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy--some of them, it seems,
+sometimes, with neither chart nor compass--certainly with little
+knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose."
+
+"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no
+ocean to you, then--and do you never feel adrift upon it?"
+
+The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange
+speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had
+been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day
+when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to
+give him up--my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that
+day--far adrift.
+
+"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute.
+
+I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly
+eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it--with so many and such
+good friends?"
+
+I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that
+moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him--figuratively
+speaking--and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with
+the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+WISTARIA--AND THE PHILOSOPHER
+
+     Friendship needs delicate handling.
+     --_Hugh Black._
+
+
+"After all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one
+morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without
+our giving a dinner for you."
+
+"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that
+isn't necessary. I have had----"
+
+"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the
+Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by
+that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner
+myself."
+
+"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat
+at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like
+anything of that name you have ever tried before. Besides she wants you
+to meet Wistaria."
+
+"Who is Wistaria?" I asked.
+
+They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other.
+
+"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident
+surprise. "Wasn't she at his----Oh, that's right--she was out of town.
+Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl--or,
+if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he
+condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me,
+Patty? All right--good-bye, dear."
+
+He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window
+after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside,
+with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a
+touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things.
+
+Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It
+would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her
+invitations over the telephone I recognized from their character that
+it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party,
+including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and
+the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining
+Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly
+divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition
+of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like.
+
+"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to
+like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married,
+and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his
+work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early
+forties."
+
+Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on
+the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom
+she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I
+laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant
+to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was
+thankful. For some reason, which I could not just understand myself, I
+was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long
+time.
+
+The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray
+frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of
+violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card
+in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time.
+It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful.
+
+The guests arrived--Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so,
+Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress
+whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be
+straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had
+insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would
+allow her to come away.
+
+Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little
+rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the
+room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and
+graceful figure, all in black under a white evening cloak, and caught a
+glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf
+which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company,
+I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met.
+
+"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having
+welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell
+back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet
+warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had
+remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner.
+
+"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as
+her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing."
+
+"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I
+wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather
+over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt
+to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of
+pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring.
+
+Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her white shoulders rose like
+a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite
+suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a
+colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than
+simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for
+a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation
+of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also.
+
+Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up
+smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a
+most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined
+that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make
+my companion long to get away.
+
+Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer
+on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend
+much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's
+absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat
+upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole company
+to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help
+noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so
+roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite
+appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in
+appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to
+view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because
+he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific
+research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain
+important field.
+
+The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I
+cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains
+with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that
+everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of
+having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a
+higher or a rarer compliment.
+
+After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the
+Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have
+gently eyed some strange specimen in the world of insects or of birds.
+The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his
+way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period,
+both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer
+attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a
+few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the
+Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang
+alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow--it is all very hazy in my
+mind, except for one singular fact--I did not spend a moment with the
+Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that
+it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my
+immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with
+whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and
+include the Philosopher in the interview.
+
+When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car
+to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage,
+which was late in arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had
+remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot
+remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as
+she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her
+white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson
+rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak.
+
+"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an
+expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the
+Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily.
+"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman."
+
+"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs
+and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock
+with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after
+eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She
+threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess
+who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well.
+
+"I was charmed with her," said I--I had not meant to take a seat again;
+I was weary and wanted to get away to bed--"I never knew how beautiful
+an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face."
+
+The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried.
+"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech.
+He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste."
+
+"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly
+planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits--there wasn't a dull
+moment."
+
+"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my
+hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you
+enjoy your Mining Engineer?"
+
+"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner
+than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating."
+
+"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make
+an ideal host?"
+
+"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared.
+
+They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode
+over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully
+long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed
+he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the
+talking your guests over after they've gone--eh, Patty, girl? I don't
+seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her."
+
+I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so
+sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But
+you must both be tired, too--and we have to be up in the morning at the
+usual hour."
+
+Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt
+guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk
+things over, but really I--the perfume from my violets had been stealing
+away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow
+faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my
+door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A
+moment later I was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and
+the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to
+take off.
+
+I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased.
+With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work
+congratulating each other on its success. By and by--I don't know when
+it happened--I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall,
+and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again--men's
+voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I
+opened it to Hepatica.
+
+"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my
+light--I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on
+the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't
+undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so
+disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of
+town quite suddenly--he's afraid he may not be back before you go--he
+says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening."
+
+There was no help for it--I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my
+light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was
+still snug; then I went.
+
+Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded
+drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the
+dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the
+window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table,
+upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently
+he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go.
+
+The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door
+of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse
+me," he said. "I don't know _why_ I am so sleepy." His tone was
+peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour
+before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I
+have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry
+you, Philo, old man." And he vanished.
+
+The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He
+drew his chair near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked
+at me in silence for a minute.
+
+"You are tired," he said.
+
+"A little. The rooms were very warm."
+
+"They were. They made the violets droop, I see."
+
+I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off."
+
+"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of
+sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I
+should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but
+with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not
+much versed in the sending of flowers."
+
+"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly
+were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them----
+
+"To be sure I did."
+
+"There was no card. I thought it was Don--and forgot to thank
+him--luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the
+evening."
+
+"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought."
+
+"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale."
+
+"Does it? I've liked that frock so much--and I had an idea gray and
+purple went together."
+
+"They do--beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in
+water, they'll be quite fresh--and so shall I. To tell the honest truth,
+so many dinners--well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad
+to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old
+garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out."
+
+"Yes--you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher,
+leaning back in his chair in the old way--he had been sitting up quite
+straight. "I understand it--I like gardens myself. And your garden most
+of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in
+Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?"
+
+"So long? Yes, it must be."
+
+"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?"
+
+[Illustration: "And so we renewed the old vow"]
+
+"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing--or inning--I
+couldn't bear to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home--his
+first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too."
+
+"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly.
+
+"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?"
+
+"I want a special welcome--from you--from my friend. When a man has only
+one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him."
+
+"Only one! You have so many."
+
+"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But
+friendship--with only one. Come, Rhexia--you understand that as well as
+I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you."
+
+He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out
+his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S
+
+
+"One passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue
+Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes
+nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother."
+
+"Nine--poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's
+certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of
+July. If we don't do better in August--the game's up."
+
+He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by
+Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace
+which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer,
+Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of
+medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which
+was set a pair of black eyes with dark circles round them, the man had
+somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous
+energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He
+was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way
+which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance.
+
+Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good
+room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no
+kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze--if you've
+got such a thing."
+
+"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we
+haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have
+plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And
+we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world.
+Shall I show you?"
+
+"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though
+Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen.
+
+"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the
+experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling, for some
+reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the
+rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had
+brought along three keys--rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard
+to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon
+this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and
+whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner.
+
+He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in
+silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly,
+without waiting for a comment.
+
+This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who
+wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along
+the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom
+always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a
+possible wealthy society lady--though Heaven knew that, during the six
+weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the
+other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain
+hostelry.
+
+"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick
+glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt.
+
+"Sure--if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it
+were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat.
+
+"Bring her on."
+
+Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above
+the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone,
+and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains
+that the house afforded. Seeing his guest--after one look around the
+spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small
+dressing-room beyond--stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide.
+The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat,
+which he had not before removed, and let the breeze--for there was
+unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been
+one of the hottest the country had known--drift refreshingly against his
+damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick
+locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead.
+
+"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back
+into the room.
+
+Tom mentioned it--with a little inward hesitation. The family had
+differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In
+his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost
+prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For
+a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the
+others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned
+the price firmly.
+
+The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little
+contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take
+'em--for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night.
+Tell you then whether I'll stay longer."
+
+Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory
+table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking--there
+was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this
+laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including
+breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy the
+most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen
+product, of course--that was not to be expected off here. But in
+temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother
+Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called
+for with ever-increasing zest--though they seldom deigned to send any
+special word of praise to the anxious cook--Boswell's needed to ask
+forbearance of nobody.
+
+"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast
+his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung
+several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?"
+
+"Yes--and iced."
+
+"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have
+rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than
+ordinarily curious to know who his guest was.
+
+"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his
+orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a
+fellow who's used to getting what he wants."
+
+When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the
+quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of
+the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of
+the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least
+five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any
+special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth
+guest was a man--a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who
+carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to
+read it at his solitary table.
+
+Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the
+dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in
+its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and
+Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking
+off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of
+the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary
+man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the
+proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed that great desideratum for such
+an official--tact.
+
+Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white
+apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on
+the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to
+him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small
+cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first
+as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went
+on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a
+plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the
+gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers--thin, iced
+cucumbers, with a French dressing--accompanied the hash; and with these
+he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after
+cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the
+guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well
+worth consuming.
+
+Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a
+large cantaloupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed
+before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted
+this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face,
+and he drained the cup clear and asked for more.
+
+Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind
+the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively
+held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly
+would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list.
+
+For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since
+the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not
+been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters
+which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to
+examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might
+quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which
+had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite
+indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom
+tentatively addressed the newcomer by that appellation there was no
+correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted.
+
+Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned
+toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast
+which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup--another
+of the Inn's specialties--he strolled away into the middle distance and
+was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about
+among the rocks, in idle attitudes.
+
+"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing
+Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her
+special domain--that of the kitchen--but left the rest of the
+housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn
+to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food--nothing
+strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored,
+or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I
+can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word
+or two to Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they
+look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow,
+he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office
+for his mail--gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's
+kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for
+his rooms a week in advance."
+
+"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years
+old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success
+of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it
+can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen
+people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all
+right?"
+
+"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known,
+that's all."
+
+"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement
+in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring
+anybody."
+
+"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged.
+This is our first season. We can't expect to do much the first season.
+We're prepared for that."
+
+But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been
+prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn
+stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western
+railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were
+pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy
+enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to
+make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in
+the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't
+figure out.
+
+On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling
+gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to
+prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There
+had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies
+had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted
+just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss
+any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye.
+
+"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins.
+
+"First-class."
+
+"Getting cooled off a bit up here?"
+
+"Pretty well."
+
+"Are, you--having everything you want?"
+
+Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret
+with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but
+without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as
+could be asked.
+
+"Nothing to complain of."
+
+Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the
+Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech
+with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He
+couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had
+his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if
+he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an
+observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly,
+and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even
+so, his questions were like shots from a gun, so brief and to the point
+were they.
+
+"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the
+thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He
+did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious
+effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon.
+
+"We have a card in all the city papers."
+
+"Any specials? Write-ups?"
+
+"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could
+afford to pay for that."
+
+"No pulls, eh?"
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"No friends among the newspaper men?"
+
+"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would."
+
+"Ever ask one?"
+
+"I don't know any," repeated Tom.
+
+A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see
+what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance
+among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It
+was worth a good deal to him merely to have this outsider show a spark
+of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn.
+
+"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to
+drop the subject.
+
+"The third of June."
+
+"Own the house?"
+
+"No--lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford
+into freshening it up."
+
+"Cook a permanent one?"
+
+The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently
+resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's
+my mother. Do you like her cooking?"
+
+"A-1."
+
+Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in
+the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had
+been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too.
+
+"Little waitress your sister?"
+
+"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well."
+
+"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?"
+
+"Yes--and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all in the family. The only
+trouble is----" he hesitated.
+
+"Lack of patronage?"
+
+"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the
+words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to
+speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had
+been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy
+questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his
+mind in a jiffy.
+
+"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came
+in a bunch without warning?"
+
+"Give us the chance!"
+
+"Chance might happen--better be prepared. I expect to be away over
+to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out
+to sample the place. It may be a mistake--don't know."
+
+"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?"
+
+"Don't ask me--none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested."
+And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of his cigar.
+"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the
+wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the
+stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen
+men to supper! Well--he thought they could entertain them. He would go
+and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer
+them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this
+rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the
+centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile
+away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along
+the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made
+their half-minute stops.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be
+exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with
+sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs.
+They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and
+laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which
+woke up Boswell's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of
+off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon
+the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself
+affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the
+apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to
+supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows,
+and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that
+their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins.
+
+Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had
+sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only
+artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way
+known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the
+elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles
+and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood
+accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles
+which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so
+that the kitchen itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a
+trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the
+first time such a shortage had occurred.
+
+Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and
+so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the
+kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she
+lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp
+toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of
+satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them
+his first "pull."
+
+He did not know it--not then. He only knew that they were very cordial
+with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one
+requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might
+like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of
+them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one
+waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step.
+
+He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins
+returned. Tom was wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to
+see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported.
+
+"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as
+Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step.
+
+"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in
+his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into
+the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by
+that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited,
+taken the trouble to----
+
+But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on
+one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a
+dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men,
+including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at
+Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly
+attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at
+summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to
+obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of
+the prime condition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was
+such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went
+to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the
+post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly
+called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a
+Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious.
+
+"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when
+Tom showed him this second free advertisement.
+
+"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host.
+
+"Charge your usual price?"
+
+"Sure. We didn't have anything extra--except the cheese. Tim drove ten
+miles for that."
+
+"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed."
+
+"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide.
+He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum
+total.
+
+"Ever dine at the Arcadia?--or the Princess?"
+
+"No."
+
+"They do."
+
+Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the
+nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the
+greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests.
+
+"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with
+some hesitation.
+
+Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his,
+which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would
+see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could
+hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that.
+
+"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by--yes. But keep up the quality
+now--and then."
+
+That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the
+night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away,
+appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women,
+who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself--Mr.
+Haskins--smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation:
+
+"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales
+were true."
+
+Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true,
+and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded.
+
+During the following week three or four others of the men of the
+original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently
+the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some
+impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season
+more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the
+porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found--which was, of
+course, the greater attraction--a table so inviting with appetizing
+food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth
+advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of
+becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell.
+
+Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp
+mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive
+of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their
+effect, and at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that
+he was more than making expenses.
+
+"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view.
+
+"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been
+from one to three big autos here every day this week."
+
+One of Perkins's short laughs answered this--Tom never could tell just
+what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out.
+
+"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar--an unusual
+sign of interest with him--"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it.
+Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better."
+
+"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit
+disconcerted.
+
+He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent
+guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins
+had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first
+he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man
+eager to be at something from which he was restrained.
+
+When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins
+got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the
+porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to
+have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head.
+
+"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town--Mercury Club--want to get up an
+auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant
+Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a
+chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to
+make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want
+it. Make a big thing of it--lanterns, bonfires, fireworks,
+orchestra--regular blow-out."
+
+Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why--why----" he stammered. "How could
+we--how could we--afford----What----? How----?"
+
+Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth
+end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of
+experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had
+a certain edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this
+thing through for you, if you cared to trust me."
+
+"But--the money?" urged Tom.
+
+"Willing to stand for that--pay me back, if you make enough.
+Otherwise--my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the
+fireworks--that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy.
+Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music--friend of mine can.
+Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?"
+
+"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed
+with excitement. "Say, you're--you're awfully kind. I don't know
+why----"
+
+Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked
+back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom
+caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile
+broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white
+but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to
+the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the
+lamest duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me--that's
+all."
+
+Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before
+he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no
+gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do.
+He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than
+wanting to help us."
+
+With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already
+seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to
+tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he
+had just had with Perkins.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch--just one
+minute--and look."
+
+"No, no, child, I can't. I----"
+
+"Not where the folks are--just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me
+to take you."
+
+"But I can't leave----"
+
+"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come--quick. The first autos are
+coming--you can see 'em miles off."
+
+With one glance about the kitchen, where two extra helpers were busy
+with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a
+supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than
+anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up
+the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the
+balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!"
+swept an arm about the entire horizon.
+
+"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing,
+transfixed.
+
+At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street
+with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns,
+hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn
+was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms
+dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be
+told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with
+them from end to end.
+
+"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement.
+"There must be a thousand of those things. How on earth----?"
+
+But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the
+surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires
+flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty.
+
+"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack
+Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to
+keep up the fires--and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!--now you can see
+the parade beginning to show!"
+
+Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from
+the city, one could discern a trail of light--thrown by many
+searchlights--and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs.
+Boswell instantly to action again.
+
+"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the
+balcony.
+
+"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but
+uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom"
+depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to
+Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good--the thought sent her down
+the back stairs at a speed reckless for one of her years. But she
+reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told.
+
+The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open
+cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into
+their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from
+the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like
+an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in
+together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of
+people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and
+floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children,
+dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with
+interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and
+evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its
+loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices.
+
+In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room,
+lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was
+filled. Reservations had been made by mail and telephone for the past
+three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could
+never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his
+elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He
+was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake
+had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first
+or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke
+and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice.
+
+As for Perkins--but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the
+first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough--in fact, he had
+been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working
+like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving
+himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective
+decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and
+colour--even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every
+trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque
+quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins
+anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled.
+
+Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long
+enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest--and
+friend--for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly
+didn't look quite strong--could he have overdone and be ill, alone in
+his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned
+the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder--and
+smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand.
+
+"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting.
+
+"You're not sick?"
+
+"Never. Things going O. K.?"
+
+"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd--such a jolly crowd! But--why don't you come
+down?"
+
+"To help make things go?"
+
+"No, no--to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these
+people, and if you don't--it's worth something just to look at 'em. I
+didn't know ladies dressed like that--under those things they wear in
+the autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here--and his
+wife!"
+
+"So?"
+
+"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been
+sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to
+the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em."
+
+"Take mine."
+
+Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours--after all you've done----"
+
+"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night.
+Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up."
+
+"But where----?"
+
+"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort
+of goes to my head."
+
+"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and----?"
+
+"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this
+room's in shape for the lady--girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday.
+My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes."
+
+Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma.
+But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it.
+
+The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded.
+They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they
+swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking
+up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of
+its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl
+planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking
+about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's
+out of the heat.
+
+Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to
+one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things
+as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular
+anywhere around. Deserves it, too."
+
+"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic
+inquired.
+
+"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so
+prompt with his flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a
+crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that
+made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten--and the service is
+first-class."
+
+It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began
+to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way.
+They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West
+Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of
+those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained.
+
+The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white
+welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling
+downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the
+women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch
+steps.
+
+Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then
+advanced with outstretched hand, smiling.
+
+"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin
+was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems to have got you
+on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him--he's just
+outside. He's with our party."
+
+With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the
+Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big
+figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down.
+
+Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had
+called the man "Parker." What----?
+
+The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and
+grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing
+here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send
+you off for an absolute rest?"
+
+"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till
+the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night,
+have you?"
+
+"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing."
+
+"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled
+on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing.
+
+"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs.
+Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose
+from his work."
+
+The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the
+latter looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the
+young man, interestedly.
+
+"Sure, he did. But who is he?"
+
+"Didn't you know who he was? That's so--you've called him Perkins all
+along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put
+two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came
+from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in
+the country. Nobody like him--he'd make the deadest hotel in the
+loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you
+can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me
+to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot
+of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown.
+Well, well, you're mighty lucky if you've got him backing you. No other
+man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night--a place
+they'd never heard of."
+
+So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot
+away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his
+ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good,
+but don't----"
+
+The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak.
+
+Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain.
+How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour?
+
+"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light
+of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where
+the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom
+appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns.
+
+"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said.
+
+"Mr. Per--Parker----" began Tom, and stopped.
+
+The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young
+innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes.
+
+"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't
+have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to
+me's like a game to a gambler--as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd
+have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another.
+Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself
+away--but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty
+well--eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No--no thanks, I
+said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing.
+It's saved my life!"
+
+Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher
+Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly
+a wondrous friendly one.
+
+_And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles
+from town._
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+HONOUR AND THE GIRL
+
+
+He lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the
+fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his
+lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to
+certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter,
+scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy
+door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid _decrescendo_ down the
+street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last
+fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the
+occupant of the big chair to say something like this:
+
+"Oh, Jerry--sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad
+this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night--Christmas Eve,
+too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of country
+life in winter? You clever boy--who but you could make so much out of so
+little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go,
+since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought
+to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be
+'babied.' Well--good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know
+the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure."
+
+That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now--a
+year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home
+from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was
+succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations--except those
+of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his
+school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body,
+his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he
+had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his
+head.
+
+When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he
+took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence or two--slowly;
+then another--more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all.
+He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into
+the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep.
+
+A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded
+before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him.
+An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept
+across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among
+his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young
+face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his.
+
+"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "_You?_ Why, Nan!"
+
+He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight
+strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength.
+She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him.
+
+"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to
+go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I
+knew I could argue with them better when I got this gown on. I think I
+have rather a regal air in it, don't you?"
+
+"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over
+it."
+
+"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and
+shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin
+silken garment with which she had covered them.
+
+"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?"
+
+"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about
+anything else until you know."
+
+She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great
+branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries
+gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up
+and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently
+surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to
+look at in the fire-glow.
+
+"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said.
+
+He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and
+told me you thought you ought."
+
+She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I
+wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all
+array themselves before I refused to go."
+
+He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an
+invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him--at least
+not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for
+all it was worth."
+
+"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were
+capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all
+the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester
+were spent from pity?"
+
+"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some
+pleasant times, haven't we?"
+
+She turned from him without speaking, and, clasping her hands loosely
+in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up
+and took a fresh log from the basket.
+
+"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on
+gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours----"
+
+She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back
+with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her.
+
+"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid
+in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't
+stir to save you no matter what happened."
+
+She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I
+stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your
+help."
+
+His eyes told her that he would give it if he could.
+
+"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked,
+bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his
+breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one.
+
+"Somehow I can talk better," she explained.
+
+She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds
+about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee.
+
+"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead
+artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do
+some special work in illustrating?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly,
+and I shall not have any of the--trials--so many young women workers
+have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it
+shall. But, Jerry--I want something. You know you have always known me,
+because I was Hester's friend."
+
+"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of
+fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was
+unmistakable.
+
+"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I."
+
+"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had."
+
+"Not what I mean by that word." She sat looking into the fire for some
+little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded
+by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward,
+while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour:
+
+"I want to feel I have a friend--one friend--a real one, whom I leave
+behind me here--who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can
+count on--differently from the way I count on other friends."
+
+He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look
+as she made her frank statement.
+
+"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know
+at home?"
+
+"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she
+added quickly.
+
+He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are
+offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much?
+Friendship--such friendship--means more to me now than it ever did
+before."
+
+"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that."
+
+"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I
+can ever have, and it must take the place of all I once--hoped for."
+
+"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously.
+
+"Since you are to be my friend now--my special friend--I can tell you
+what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I
+have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"--he
+smiled grimly--"you should know what you are accepting."
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"He said I might be better--much better--but I could never hope to
+be--my old self again."
+
+"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and
+reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender
+pressure.
+
+"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands
+closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew
+brilliant. "If it does--it is going to be something a man might give up
+a good deal for."
+
+"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disappointment so?" she breathed.
+"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you
+were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!--Jerry, I'm not
+worthy to be your friend."
+
+"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how
+I've wanted to ask it----"
+
+"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away
+for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might
+presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship.
+Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the
+most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere.
+
+"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give
+you the strong arm a well man could."
+
+"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned
+yourself," she said--and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes
+of hers--"you will have given me something worth while."
+
+Presently they were talking of her journey, to be begun on the morrow;
+of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable
+success; of his work--the part which he could do and would continue to
+do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and
+each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness,
+something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial.
+
+"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion
+of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly
+rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful
+things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was
+thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real
+friend.' But all the girls were----"
+
+He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now."
+
+"But your friendship is worth more now than then."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"It is--because _you_ are more than you were then."
+
+"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan." He did not say it bitterly, but
+he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase.
+
+She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a
+remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done
+a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the
+refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too
+strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the
+eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires.
+
+"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly.
+
+"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile
+again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense
+before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I
+can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate
+that; but I'm very grateful just the same."
+
+"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her
+lap--and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away
+profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt
+into his memory afterward--"to have you remember this Christmas Eve--as
+I shall."
+
+"Remember it!"
+
+"Shall you?"
+
+"Shall I!"
+
+"Ah--who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it
+rather faintly.
+
+He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"Early--at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it
+is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I
+must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas
+Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to
+spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton--like the foolish girl that I
+am."
+
+She rose and stood before him.
+
+"Would you mind slipping off that--domino?" he requested. "I'd like to
+see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had
+gone to the Van Antwerps'."
+
+Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the
+firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow.
+He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she
+must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out
+both hands.
+
+"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he
+said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to
+bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but--it's Christmas Eve, you
+know--and--you'll give me one more thing to remember--won't you, Nan?"
+
+She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his
+forehead, but he caught her hands.
+
+"Is that the proper degree for friendship--and you feel that more would
+be too much?"
+
+She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing
+beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath
+of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of
+unsuspected reserves of strength.
+
+She turned away then in a pretty confusion, said, "Good-night," and
+went slowly toward the door.
+
+"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me--you will write often?"
+
+"Oh, yes; every--month."
+
+"Month? Won't you write every mail?"
+
+"Oh, Jerry!"
+
+"Every week, then?"
+
+"Will you?"
+
+"I will, whether you do or not."
+
+"Your ideas of friendship----"
+
+"Are they too exacting?"
+
+"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her
+hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a
+frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and
+see her, but she defeated this.
+
+"Please come here," he begged.
+
+She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally.
+
+"Please----"
+
+"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and
+you--won't----"
+
+"Won't--what?"
+
+She crept up close behind his chair.
+
+"--_say it_," she whispered.
+
+He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here.
+Say--what?"
+
+She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on
+each side of his face.
+
+"Please say it," she breathed.
+
+He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me
+almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?"
+
+She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered,
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan--are you insane? What if I say it--then
+how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now--and
+you--can't mean it."
+
+"_Say it!_" came the breath in his ear again.
+
+He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to
+speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most
+rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his
+shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face.
+
+"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever
+knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it while you go away
+for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and
+write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile--keep your heart free
+for--the man will surely come to claim it some day--a man who will be
+worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and--body. I shall be happy in
+your----"
+
+Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle
+insistence upon his mouth.
+
+"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough--please. I understand.
+That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you
+ought to say, of course. But--it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For
+it's not the thing--I'm waiting for you to say."
+
+"Nan----"
+
+"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a
+suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice.
+
+"But, Nan----"
+
+"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to
+be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite
+sure that I shall sleep if you say it"--her voice dropped to a whisper
+again--"but I'm sure I shall not if--you--don't."
+
+"My dear girl----"
+
+"That's hardly warm enough, is it--under the circumstances--when you
+won't see me for a year? Jerry--a whole year----"
+
+"Nan--for the love of Heaven come around here!"
+
+"Not so much for the love of Heaven as----"
+
+"No--for the love of you--you--_you!_"
+
+She came at last--and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them
+after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so
+strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he
+began to speak--in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little
+brown curl touching his lips, it listened.
+
+"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it
+back. But you know--you must know, nothing can come of it."
+
+He heard her murmur, "Why?"
+
+"You know why."
+
+"I don't."
+
+He drew a deep breath.
+
+"Don't you want me?" she asked--into his shoulder.
+
+"Want you!"
+
+"You've everything to offer me."
+
+"Nan----"
+
+"Everything I want. Jerry"--she lifted her head and looked for an
+instant into his eyes--"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it."
+
+"A wreck of a life----"
+
+"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You--Jerrold
+Fullerton--whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in
+the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with--with me?"
+
+"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone."
+
+"No--his soul--all there is of him--his great personality--himself. And
+that's so much more than I can give in return----"
+
+"Nan, darling----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you
+come back, if----"
+
+"If I'm still of the same mind----Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a
+wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh.
+
+"--if I'm no worse--if I'm a little better----This is great medicine,
+Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then----"
+
+"I shall not go at all unless--unless----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"--unless I am bound tight--tight--to you. I--I shouldn't feel sure of
+you!"
+
+"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath.
+"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but----"
+
+"If she will make it----"
+
+"Look at me, Nan."
+
+"I can't--long," she complained. "Somehow you--you--blind me."
+
+He laughed softly. "I realize that--you are blind--blind. But I can't
+open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try."
+
+"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I
+must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry--let me go, dear----Yes, yes--you
+must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme
+difficulty. "But I _can_ go now. I couldn't when I said good-night
+before----Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry----Merry
+Christmas, Jerry!"
+
+Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the
+back of his chair and whisper in his ear:
+
+"Jerry----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Am I really--engaged--to you?"
+
+"Darling--bless you--I'm afraid you are."
+
+"Afraid?"
+
+"Nan--I'm the happiest cripple on earth."
+
+So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As
+for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire
+till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it
+was the beginning of his cure.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THEIR WORD OF HONOUR
+
+
+The president of the Great B---- railway system laid down the letter he
+had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an
+expression of annoyance.
+
+"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a
+thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter
+without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"--he
+looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by--"I hope you
+are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much
+of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm
+not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own
+importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir--not
+desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah
+Woodbridge test to your boys?"
+
+Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No,
+I haven't, father," he said.
+
+"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the
+boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it
+was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the
+day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"
+
+"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.
+
+The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his
+chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a
+stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel
+pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius----" He shook his head doubtfully
+and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.
+
+"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and
+whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of
+inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy."
+
+"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their
+work without further words. They were in the habit of dispatching
+important business with the smallest possible waste of breath.
+
+On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found
+himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once,
+a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in
+every line of him.
+
+"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of
+a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this
+envelope"--he held out a large and bulky packet--"and without saying
+anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you
+your word of honour that you will do so."
+
+The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly
+alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in
+the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy.
+Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour,
+but he responded firmly:
+
+"I will, sir."
+
+"On your honour?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then
+start at once."
+
+Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of
+dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room,
+opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled
+with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a
+typewritten paper which read as follows:
+
+     Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open
+     Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with
+Harold is off. Well, here goes!"
+
+On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took
+a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was
+at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1."
+
+     Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk
+     Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 A. M. Ask for letter
+     addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open
+     Env. No. 2.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated.
+"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away
+uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my
+way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though.
+He usually knows just about why he does things."
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall
+youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop
+in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of
+the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not,
+however, quicken his pace.
+
+"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an
+errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have
+not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this
+envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to
+yourself. May I have from you your word of honour that I can trust you
+to follow the orders to the smallest detail?"
+
+Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the
+envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference.
+
+Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision:
+
+"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word
+of honour that you will fulfil them."
+
+"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?"
+
+"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted
+messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine
+and represent my wishes."
+
+"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an
+imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers.
+
+"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's
+voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his
+speech.
+
+"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm.
+
+"And--your word of honour?"
+
+"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary.
+
+"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your
+instructions."
+
+And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that
+memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him
+to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there
+within three quarters of an hour.
+
+Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After
+getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he
+had read:
+
+     Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue,
+     and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight
+     streets and open Env. No. 3.    C. W. Jr.
+
+Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting
+interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but
+found, to his amazement, only the singular direction:
+
+     Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there
+     go to _Sentinel_ Office and secure third edition of yesterday's
+     paper. Open Env. No. 4.    C. W. Jr.
+
+"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to
+Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train,
+thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of
+certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be
+thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He
+looked at the packet of unopened envelopes.
+
+"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what
+this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this
+before. If it's a joke"--his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"--"I
+might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a
+fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'--that's
+putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm
+getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."
+
+It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city
+and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of
+order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a
+very satisfactory one:
+
+     Go to Café Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in
+     left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr.
+     Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8.    C. W. Jr.
+
+The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in
+the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and
+drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and
+the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's
+card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Café Reynard was a
+place famous the country over for its cookery.
+
+"I think I'll have--" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a
+laugh--"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me
+the----"
+
+Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and
+broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his
+face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why--why--this
+can't be----"
+
+"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the
+dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly:
+
+     Leave Café immediately, without stopping for luncheon,
+     remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to
+     box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for
+     matinée--"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env.
+     No. 9.    C. W. Jr.
+
+The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression
+resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation
+that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward
+the Metropolitan Theatre.
+
+"Who wants to see a matinée on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose
+I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs.
+Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in
+wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's
+doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as
+quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."
+
+Nevertheless, when at the end of the first act of a pretty play by a
+well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles
+to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the
+game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense.
+
+All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and
+suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it
+was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and
+commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which
+forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see
+no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He
+was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he
+reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This
+read:
+
+     Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read
+     No. 18.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his
+home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18--and the words fairly swam before
+his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken.
+
+     Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets,
+     reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19.    C. W., Jr.
+
+The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his
+pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour,"
+as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to
+their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have
+rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one
+long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned
+and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out
+toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights.
+
+As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from
+behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge,
+Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a
+satisfied way.
+
+"He's come--and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the
+minute!"
+
+Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening
+paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth
+slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he
+thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure
+thing.
+
+The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared
+its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a
+purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and
+Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route,
+and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his
+stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it
+would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban
+station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done
+enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger.
+
+Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had
+been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "_A chain is no
+stronger than its weakest link._" Cyrus jumped off the car before it
+fairly stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and
+Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour.
+
+Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even
+taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back,
+beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city
+messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope.
+
+"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd
+been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got
+seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad
+boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me."
+
+Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that
+served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident
+showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of
+some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His
+father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose
+indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his
+memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of
+him had been slighted.
+
+As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident
+that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No.
+20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering
+the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a
+sigh broke open the final seal:
+
+     Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B---- Railroad,
+     reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of
+     station, by telegraph office.    C. W., Jr.
+
+It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a
+machine--a hollow one--which could keep on going indefinitely.
+
+"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about
+from one place to another--never knowing where it's due next--always
+waiting outside--never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this
+schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this
+morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."
+
+The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock
+were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated
+spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one
+of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were
+officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He
+brought the boy a card which ran thus:
+
+     Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card
+     received at restaurant, the matinée coupon, yesterday
+     evening's _Sentinel_, and the envelope received at
+     Kingston Heights.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of
+thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them,
+but was back in three minutes.
+
+"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast.
+Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's
+private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a
+tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico.
+Could it be possible----
+
+In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius
+Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand.
+
+"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have
+stood the test--the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir--and you may be proud
+of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us
+through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's
+hardship?"
+
+"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his
+grandfather's smile, intensified.
+
+"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with
+interest.
+
+Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so--now, sir," he said. Both
+gentlemen laughed.
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"Well, just a little, grandfather."
+
+"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to
+wait. I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid"--the old gentleman turned to
+gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station--"that another
+boy's word of honour isn't----"
+
+He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting
+orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a
+half----one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the
+second, sir. Ah----"
+
+The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into
+Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a
+glance.
+
+"Yes--yes--all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of
+excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As
+the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared
+in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely
+his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car.
+
+Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands
+with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the
+board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him
+also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but
+his voice was grave with feeling.
+
+"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose
+word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge
+standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have
+resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points
+would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not
+fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on
+those lines. I congratulate you, sir."
+
+Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius.
+"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your
+legs off all over town?"
+
+"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big
+towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of
+an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground
+floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a
+thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my
+dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too--one with Helena Fowler
+at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and stick it out.
+Casabianca was nothing to me."
+
+"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively.
+
+"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it."
+
+"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no
+time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came
+for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the
+elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his
+customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it."
+
+"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD
+
+
+The Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on
+account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the
+last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at
+last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be
+allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For
+Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he
+was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he
+had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many
+inadequate introductions.
+
+"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he
+had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that
+morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty
+hard time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to
+the men in blue--and gray--and brown, for we have all sorts here, you
+know."
+
+It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he
+was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David
+thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been
+in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's
+company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really
+been in very few engagements.
+
+"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And
+I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only,
+you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my
+playing is out there."
+
+Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward,
+when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He
+peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was
+out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the
+square might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and
+May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its
+only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of
+the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of
+the clash and shock of arms.
+
+The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was
+being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men.
+From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words:
+
+    "Flash'd all their sabres bare,
+    Flash'd as they turned in air
+    Sabring th' gunners there,
+    Charging an army, while
+        All th' world wonder'd:
+    Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke
+    Right through th' line they broke;
+    Cossack an' Russian
+    Reeled from th' sabre-stroke
+        Scatter'd an' shunder'd.
+    Then they rode back, but not----"
+
+The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and
+wipe his white little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely
+real to him.
+
+"_Not--the six hundred_," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat,
+gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again.
+
+"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of
+'em----"
+
+Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What
+is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade?
+
+It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's
+four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite
+boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old--he
+was ten now--had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag.
+All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at
+the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of
+great pride to David every year--that silken flag.
+
+David's four uncles were all soldiers--in a way. There was Uncle
+Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War,
+and Colonel Thorndyke he was--against his will--always called still.
+Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular
+army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service
+in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong
+after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West
+Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for
+Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in
+either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the
+fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more
+like a soldier than he did now.
+
+It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger
+Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle.
+She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to
+settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all
+her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom
+to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore
+that fact.
+
+"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of
+Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been
+hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted
+that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the
+operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great
+English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days.
+He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he
+thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that--it's my chance."
+
+She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her
+youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of
+hospital, was first to speak.
+
+"When does he come?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?"
+
+"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't
+sure whether----"
+
+"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major
+mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain
+Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service.
+
+"You all think it's best to have it done?"
+
+"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in
+that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at
+anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is
+international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The
+cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command--he was an
+excellent cadet lieutenant.
+
+But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel
+Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most
+relied. He nodded at her.
+
+"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as
+good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to
+his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and
+figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a
+cripple.
+
+So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see
+David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he thought wise,
+as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose
+another question: Who should tell David?
+
+"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of
+the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of
+you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always
+playing he's a soldier, and if--if one of you could put it to him--in a
+sort of military way----"
+
+She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked
+at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the
+task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug
+which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing
+him.
+
+"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke.
+
+"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke.
+
+"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his
+usual decision of manner.
+
+So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as
+any of the others, they would not let him off.
+
+"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added:
+
+"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he
+won't mind what you tell him."
+
+It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay
+awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It
+seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he
+could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging
+to see.
+
+Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since
+the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his
+first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had
+had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after
+the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be
+Memorial Day. Meanwhile--there was David.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell
+him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English
+surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination,
+ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his
+hand.
+
+"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just
+what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him--you'll
+know how."
+
+"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were
+heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with
+these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment
+before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions
+from headquarters.
+
+When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure
+awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The
+deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the
+corporal said to the major:
+
+"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the enemy is encamped on the
+opposite shore, and is preparing to attack."
+
+Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the
+study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to
+enter.
+
+Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw
+there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes
+and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her.
+
+"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur
+says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and
+I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm
+going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is
+Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen
+Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal
+has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my
+uniform, too--may I?"
+
+The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and
+significantly from the proud address of the officer to the humble
+request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs.
+Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she
+said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it
+ready."
+
+"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but
+if I do, Uncle Ar--the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I
+must take it as it comes."
+
+Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing
+general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner
+made an excellent general, David thought.
+
+They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with
+the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack
+upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to
+David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his
+corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done.
+
+There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said
+over to himself a great many times on the way to the hospital the
+opening lines:
+
+    "Half a league, half a league,
+      Half a league onward.
+    All in th' valley of Death
+      Rode th' six hundred...."
+
+As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he
+would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much
+better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch,
+and waved the other at his staff--and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on
+behind.
+
+    "Forward, th' Light Brigade!
+    'Charge for th' guns!' he said...."
+
+"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of
+Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on.
+
+"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered,
+and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in
+his throat.
+
+It may have been a common thing for the hospital nurses and doctors to
+see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other
+military figures--the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were
+surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red
+Cross badge on her sleeve--hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This
+badge David regarded with delight.
+
+"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily.
+
+"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned.
+And after that there was a special bond between them.
+
+When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have
+Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of
+hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours'
+sleep.
+
+"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily.
+
+"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here
+all night."
+
+The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss
+him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from
+his mother, the major thought it best not to mind. Indeed, it was very
+comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even
+though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms.
+
+The next morning things happened rather rapidly.
+
+"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his
+breakfast.
+
+"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal,
+with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said,
+although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no
+food to hearten one.
+
+A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and
+sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his
+patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand
+in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to
+stand by to the last ditch.
+
+    "Forward, th' Light Brigade!
+    Was 'ere a man dismay'd?
+    Not though the soldier knew
+        Some 'un had blunder'd...."
+
+"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out
+into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand.
+
+    "Theirs not to make reply--
+    Theirs--not to--reason--why--
+    Theirs--but--to--do--an'--die----"
+
+The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met
+the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to
+her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold.
+
+"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the
+waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were
+marching up and down during the period of suspense.
+
+"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart.
+"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering,
+'Theirs not to make reply----'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray
+sleeve across his eyes.
+
+"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's
+boy, all right."
+
+There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the
+good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and
+was rallying bravely.
+
+"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end
+successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor
+together.
+
+"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur.
+"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now,
+if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the
+pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of
+danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short
+of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course,
+in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch
+courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach
+to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm
+going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between
+now and then."
+
+That Memorial Day address! How was a distraught young clergyman to
+think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the
+bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life?
+
+It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the
+fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak
+confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur
+Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should
+never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips.
+
+Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this
+is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the
+'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester
+and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be
+there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little
+bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can
+salute, you know, even if they can't see you."
+
+"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David.
+
+Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion I'm going to open my mouth,"
+he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I
+never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's
+mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I
+know."
+
+He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up
+at him.
+
+"Uncle Arthur--but--but--I wasn't plucky--all the time. Sometimes--it
+hurt so I--had to cry."
+
+The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't
+count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band."
+
+Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached,
+mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother
+and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he
+could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then
+stopped; the drums beat.
+
+"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David,
+disappointed.
+
+The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst
+with a crash into the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with
+delight.
+
+"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were;
+David could see them.
+
+The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon
+the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room;
+but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by
+Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were
+wonderful:
+
+_"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah--comrade!"_
+
+David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would
+never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ----th
+New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he
+murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men
+who had stood outside his window and cheered:
+
+    "When can their glory fade?
+    O th' wild charge they made!
+        All th' world wonder'd.
+    Honour th' charge they made!
+    Honour th' Light Brigade,
+        Noble six hundred!"
+
+An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in
+their uniforms--all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman,
+and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat.
+
+"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!"
+cried Uncle Stephen proudly.
+
+"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart.
+
+"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league
+onward,' if the rest of us have stood still."
+
+Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David.
+
+"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it
+much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+A COURT OF INQUIRY
+
+BY GRACE S. RICHMOND.
+
+
+This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the
+effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher."
+Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica--and their several
+entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and
+the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities
+against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups
+through the eyes of the one who tells the tale--and very shrewd and
+delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much
+real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written
+anything more fresh and human and entertaining.
+
+
+ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
+
+    Red Pepper Burns.
+    Mrs. Red Pepper.
+    The Indifference of Juliet.
+    Round the Corner in Gay Street.
+    With Juliet in England.
+    Strawberry Acres.
+    The Second Violin.
+
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+Publishers,--New York
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's notes:
+
+"Where-ever" on page 78 has been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent
+with the spelling in the rest of the text.
+
+"everbody" on page 96 has been changed to "everybody".]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Court of Inquiry
+
+Author: Grace S. Richmond
+
+Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img title="Cover" height="400" width="251" alt="Cover" src="images/cover.jpg"></img></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo1_big.png"><img title="illustration1.jpg" height="187" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration1.jpg"></img></a></p>
+<p class="caption">"'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private
+Court of Inquiry<br />into the Condition of Our Friends'"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2 class="center">A COURT<br />
+OF INQUIRY</h2>
+
+
+<h4 class="center">By GRACE S. RICHMOND</h4>
+
+<p class="center">Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper,"<br />
+"Second Violin," Etc.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img title="decoration.jpg" height="40" width="40" alt="decoration" src="images/decoration.jpg"></img></p>
+
+<p class="center">WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%" />
+
+<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS</p>
+
+<p class="center">114-120 East Twenty-third Street&mdash;New York</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Published by Arrangement with Doubleday, Page &amp; Co.</span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h4 class="center"><i>Copyright</i>, 1909, 1916, <i>by</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Doubleday, Page &amp; Company</span></h4>
+
+<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved, including that of<br />
+translation into foreign languages,<br />
+including the Scandinavian</i></p>
+
+<h6 class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY<br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</h6>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%" />
+<h4 class="center">TO</h4>
+
+<h4 class="center">C. R. P. <span class="smcap">and</span> M. B. P.</h4>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="contents" id="contents">CONTENTS</a></h3>
+<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part I</span></h4>
+<table class="tspec1" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"></td>
+<td class="tdmid"></td>
+<td class="tdright">PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_I">I.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#althea1">Althea</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_3">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_II">II.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#camellia1">Camellia</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_III">III.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#dahlia1">Dahlia</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_IV">IV.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#rhodora1">Rhodora</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_V">V.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#azalea1">Azalea</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#I_VI">VI.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#hepatica1">Hepatica</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_72">72</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part II</span></h4>
+<table class="tspec1" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_I">I.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#dahlia2">Dahlia and the Professor</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_II">II.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#camellia2">Camellia and the Judge</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_III">III.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#azalea2">Azalea and the Cashier</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_IV">IV.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#althea2">Althea and the Promoter</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_131">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_V">V.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#rhodora2">Rhodora and the Preacher</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#II_VI">VI.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#wistaria2">Wistaria&mdash;and the Philosopher</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h4 class="center"><span class="smcap">Part III</span></h4>
+<table class="tspec1" summary="contents">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_I">I.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#sixteen">Sixteen Miles to Boswell's</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_181">181</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_II">II.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#honour">Honour and the Girl</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_III">III.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#their">Their Word of Honour</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_241">241</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdleft"><a href="#III_IV">IV.</a></td>
+<td class="tdmid"><a href="#half">"Half a League Onward"</a></td>
+<td class="tdright"><a href="#page_261">261</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+<h2 class="center"><a id="part1" name="part1">PART I</a></h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">[Page 3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="center">A Court of Inquiry</h2>
+<h3 class="center">and Other Tales</h3>
+
+<h2 class="center"><a id="I_I" name="I_I">I</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="althea1" id="althea1">ALTHEA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Nothing impaired</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">but all disordered.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">&mdash;<i>Midsummer Night's Dream.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how
+there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends
+is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were
+all full&mdash;and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And
+when I assign each room it is after taking thought.</p>
+
+<p>There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have
+belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them
+and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable.
+The third room is for one after<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">[Page 4]</a></span> another of the girls and women who
+visit me. The fourth room&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be
+passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration,
+and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white
+cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed.</p>
+
+<p>"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume,"
+I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl
+friends. The trouble is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The trouble is&mdash;you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss
+Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not."</p>
+
+<p>I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd&mdash;shrewd though he often
+is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his
+imagination.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">[Page 5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those
+white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed,
+and&mdash;er&mdash;attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror,"
+he propounded.</p>
+
+<p>"I should send her home."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the
+Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all
+that whiteness."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away
+downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back
+the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show
+between.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on
+the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the
+racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is
+one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her
+flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">[Page 6]</a></span> frown, and
+because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality,
+as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to
+dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the
+long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the
+porch mending some fishing-tackle&mdash;my Lad, with the clear young eyes
+which see things.</p>
+
+<p>Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty
+embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought
+about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to
+have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of
+the girl's family.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy,
+hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have
+about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it
+seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly
+all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink
+hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">[Page 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
+and umbrella upon the bed.</p>
+
+<p>The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes
+before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a
+somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
+hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
+into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
+girls are made at home.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and
+dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
+rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
+to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a
+touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's
+needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters
+looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty
+reminder of herself here and there to give them character&mdash;an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">[Page 8]</a></span>
+embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
+work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
+handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
+should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The
+closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on
+padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small,
+smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was
+clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the
+place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best
+down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful
+custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know
+when she did it.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp&mdash;there are no
+electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug
+whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which
+had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered
+a chair hung full<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">[Page 9]</a></span> with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out
+of my path.</p>
+
+<p>It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily
+stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered
+all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without
+a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp
+and looked around me.</p>
+
+<p>Well&mdash;of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for
+dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not
+judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights.
+I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the
+closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane,
+and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work
+quickly, and returned to lower the light.</p>
+
+<p>It couldn't be&mdash;really, no&mdash;it couldn't be! There must be some other way
+of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall,
+now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again
+and again before it struck into light!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">[Page 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It <i>couldn't</i> have been Althea. Yet&mdash;those marks were never there
+before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have
+had no need for artificial light. Wait&mdash;there lay a long, black object
+on the white cover of the dressing-table&mdash;a curling iron!</p>
+
+<p>In the hall I ran into the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her
+scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood
+outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf.
+I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I
+could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp.
+"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the
+dressing-table. "Oh, no&mdash;this must be&mdash;a sash," said he, and dropped it.
+He stood looking about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">[Page 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you will," said he, "in this&mdash;er&mdash;this&mdash;pandemonium."</p>
+
+<p>I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you
+go away?" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over
+something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind
+about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to
+walk&mdash;the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"&mdash;as he moved toward the
+staircase and I followed&mdash;"don't you think we'd better move the
+Philosopher in to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different.
+Please reserve your judgment."</p>
+
+<p>I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until
+the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where
+five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over
+upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink
+adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">[Page 12]</a></span> bed showed
+plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter
+writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best
+towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not
+help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to
+her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door
+interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a
+bushel-basket.</p>
+
+<p>"Want some help?" offered he.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the
+hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I
+couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of
+the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to
+count the things on that dressing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was <i>very</i> ungentlemanly of you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">[Page 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Guilty," he admitted again&mdash;but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his
+eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take
+notes like this. An open door&mdash;it's an invitation to look in. Now, the
+Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how
+it looks inside&mdash;by the Gay Lady herself."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean&mdash;how
+can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in
+order?&mdash;for she certainly does."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it," said he triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"But how?"</p>
+
+<p>"And I know that you keep yours in order."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>how</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can
+see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of
+her collar with a common brass pin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but
+his eyes are so keen and&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">[Page 14]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."</p>
+
+<p>"She has many lovely qualities&mdash;&mdash;" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
+makes them so easy on themselves. Er&mdash;by-the-way&mdash;&mdash;Well, well&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
+above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his
+bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a
+minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive
+for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely
+qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have,
+which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has
+a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">[Page 15]</a></span> which I do not think the
+marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to
+this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for
+the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling
+irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt
+that she would like that room quite as well.</p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">[Page 16]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="I_II" id="I_II">II</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a id="camellia1" name="camellia1">CAMELLIA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">You thought to break a country heart</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For pastime, ere you went to town.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>Tennyson.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Did</span> you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the
+Gay Lady.</p>
+
+<p>"For a few days," I assented.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which
+hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon.
+She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me
+with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is
+here?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short
+visit on her way home from the South," I announced.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">[Page 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my
+trousers to be pressed."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from
+his book.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little
+information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be
+pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in
+men's attire?"</p>
+
+<p>"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At
+sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my
+shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when
+Miss Camellia is here."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her,"
+he added.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It
+was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon
+your scientist. "Do <i>you</i> dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">[Page 18]</a></span> here?"
+he asked of me. "That is&mdash;I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat
+of us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I won't&mdash;before she comes," I said. "Afterward&mdash;I get out the
+best I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his
+white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after
+a moment.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth
+it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and
+desolation. Brace up, Philo&mdash;she's certainly worth all the agony of mind
+she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love
+with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change
+and reminding myself that it's all I have&mdash;and it wouldn't buy her a
+handkerchief."</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady spent the morning freshen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">[Page 19]</a></span>ing her frocks&mdash;which were
+somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It
+was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them
+had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless,
+and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and
+frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of
+other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear
+only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The
+Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that
+Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's
+appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive,
+gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of
+what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not
+strange,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">[Page 20]</a></span> for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as
+always, charming.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia
+was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about
+that to upset you all."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say,
+he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown&mdash;or
+possibly in spangles and lace!</p>
+
+<p>Camellia went to her room&mdash;the white room. This time I had no fears for
+the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white
+wall. I repaired to my own room&mdash;<i>to dress for dinner</i>. As I passed the
+porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished&mdash;so had the
+Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down&mdash;in white ducks. He
+hailed me as I passed.</p>
+
+<p>"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all
+guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while&mdash;while Miss Camellia
+is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it&mdash;if he's not bluffing. Is it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">[Page 21]</a></span>
+true? Do you mean it? We&mdash;that is&mdash;we haven't been dressing for
+dinner&mdash;except, of course, you ladies seem always to&mdash;but that's
+different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we
+should&mdash;in the country&mdash;in July."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to&mdash;really?"</p>
+
+<p>"I presume he really is. You see&mdash;he has met Camellia before. He knows
+how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very
+much, and he might possibly feel a little odd&mdash;in tennis flannels&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be
+behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered
+lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its
+loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put
+on a white muslin&mdash;the finest, simplest thing. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">[Page 22]</a></span> Philosopher, pushing
+a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process
+had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he
+whispered to her, "she can't win over you."</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the
+porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat&mdash;I saw it in
+his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade&mdash;he looked as
+if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she
+smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to
+make her feel like a school-girl&mdash;she had repeatedly avowed it to me
+in private.</p>
+
+<p>Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire&mdash;that could always
+truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as
+duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of
+the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be
+unconscious of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">[Page 23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher,
+whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well
+up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked
+ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat
+might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than
+usual&mdash;somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's
+guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool
+recesses of the porch.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white&mdash;one
+which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before
+seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took
+Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a
+yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she
+came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat
+had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her
+dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were
+nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">[Page 24]</a></span> there in the frock she had
+put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and
+the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the
+Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses
+he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a
+little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes
+suspiciously misty.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through
+the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look
+so&mdash;so&mdash;<i>duddy</i>&mdash;beside hers."</p>
+
+<p>"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My
+very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems
+countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again&mdash;next
+week."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly.</p>
+
+<p>What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for
+the sanity of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">[Page 25]</a></span> the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was
+eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers'
+pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to
+remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the
+Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific
+eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the
+Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters.</p>
+
+<p>In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us.
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels&mdash;it had grown
+slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a
+week&mdash;and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After
+dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were
+more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo
+lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a
+relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which
+seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">[Page 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing
+on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly
+at his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were
+worth&mdash;millions."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances&mdash;through the twilight. We would
+have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane&mdash;only delirious. It'll
+wear off."</p>
+
+<p>"It will," agreed the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence,
+"that it's really mostly clothes."</p>
+
+<p>"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you
+think her clothes are about all there is of her?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">[Page 27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the
+hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this
+unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their
+contents&mdash;&mdash;Look here"&mdash;he paused in front of me and looked at me as
+piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the
+twilight&mdash;"did she ever wear the same thing twice?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe not," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of
+herself in clothes that any fool could see cost&mdash;C&aelig;sar, what must they
+cost!&mdash;and change four times a day&mdash;and keep us dancing around in
+starched collars&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't have to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we did&mdash;pardon me! We did, not to be innocently&mdash;not
+insolently&mdash;mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would
+keep a man humping to furnish the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">[Page 28]</a></span> wherewithal. For what," continued the
+Philosopher, growing very earnest&mdash;"what, if she'd wear that sort of
+clothes here, would she consider necessary for&mdash;for&mdash;visiting her rich
+friends? Tell me that!"</p>
+
+<p>We could not tell him that. We did not try.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into
+plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's
+present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let
+appear to anybody.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady.</p>
+
+<p>They sauntered slowly away into the twilight.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The Philosopher came and sat down by me.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset.
+I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But
+when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here
+together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I
+have really no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">[Page 29]</a></span> recollection. When it was too dark to see her
+clothes&mdash;or her smile&mdash;I remember being once or twice distinctly bored.
+Now&mdash;the Gay Lady&mdash;don't you think she always looks well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lovely," I agreed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I
+should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less
+than Miss Camellia's."</p>
+
+<p>"Considerably."</p>
+
+<p>"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't
+suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes&mdash;unless
+he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced
+to&mdash;eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the
+Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.</p>
+
+<p>"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time
+speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.&mdash;How comfortable it is on
+this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat&mdash;on a
+July evening!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">[Page 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned&mdash;after an hour. The Skeptic, as he
+came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall,
+looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had
+been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her
+smile, I doubted if he had been bored.</p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">[Page 31]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="I_III" id="I_III"></a>III</h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="dahlia1" id="dahlia1">DAHLIA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">O, weary fa' the women fo'k,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For they winna let a body be!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>James Hogg.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch
+of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her
+father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite
+of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that
+there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's
+long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista
+of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she
+appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across
+the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles,
+and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear in the country.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">[Page 32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points
+of view. If only&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher,
+looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific
+aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends
+so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom
+finds much left in which to fish.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a
+gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched
+himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once
+knowing, you'll always know."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information,
+and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped
+his eyes to his trout flies.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily
+extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">[Page 33]</a></span> communication
+in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew
+his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her
+first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet
+and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to
+pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said
+something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers
+clinging to his.</p>
+
+<p>"Been&mdash;er&mdash;horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his
+hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did.</p>
+
+<p>I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her
+from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I
+presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies.
+She scanned him closely&mdash;the Philosopher is very good-looking
+(almost&mdash;but not quite&mdash;better-looking than the Skeptic)&mdash;then she
+dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">[Page 34]</a></span>
+offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better,
+and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
+remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
+his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
+asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which
+showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
+observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."</p>
+
+<p>Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will excuse&mdash;&mdash;" he began.</p>
+
+<p>But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she
+said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
+think, myself."</p>
+
+<p>Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it&mdash;at
+least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">[Page 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
+disappointed child.</p>
+
+<p>I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I
+observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is
+invariably courteous.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's
+rather a long walk to the stream and&mdash;I'm afraid the boat leaks
+considerably, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with
+delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old&mdash;&mdash;" She gave the Skeptic a
+look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it
+failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my
+sunbonnet&mdash;just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called
+back to us, as the two walked away.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His
+face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon
+know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">[Page 36]</a></span>
+think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes&mdash;but that was quick
+work!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he
+inquired, still chuckling.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery
+without looking up.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go fishing?"</p>
+
+<p>The inquiry was directed at me.</p>
+
+<p>I shook my head.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm
+going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared.
+"I want to see Philo when she&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away&mdash;not in the direction of the
+trout stream.</p>
+
+<p>Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia
+was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had
+rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to
+luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very
+gay, sitting at my round<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">[Page 37]</a></span> table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic,
+and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in
+speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well&mdash;in
+Dahlia's case.</p>
+
+<p>After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually
+deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which
+has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the
+pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch
+the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went
+out by the pantry door.</p>
+
+<p>On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look
+after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>He hastened away down the driveway.</p>
+
+<p>Dahlia looked after him.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing!
+And he's cut his foot!&mdash;I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and
+see him."</p>
+
+<p>And she hurried away after the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">[Page 38]</a></span> the Gay Lady to me. Her
+expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.</p>
+
+<p>"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.</p>
+
+<p>We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the
+side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had
+turned down the slats tightly.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the
+white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The
+Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict,
+and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a
+seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away
+down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the
+house beyond the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>Dahlia came over at twilight that evening&mdash;to bring me a great bunch of
+golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an
+hour or so. When she went<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">[Page 39]</a></span> away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was
+forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without
+warning, some twenty minutes earlier.</p>
+
+<p>She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically
+took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a
+trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally
+overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the
+library door, toward the last of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to take her home to-night, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't." It was the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be hanged if I will."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be hanged if <i>I</i> will. There's a limit."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along&mdash;stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She
+can't carry you off bodily."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">[Page 40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed
+with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in
+settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled
+it somehow.</p>
+
+<p>When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both
+accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any
+previous occasion.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men.
+Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention
+than we were accustomed to expect&mdash;the two men were too busy standing by
+each other to have much time for us.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth
+evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm
+simply not allowed to refuse."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his
+head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his
+satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">[Page 41]</a></span> and
+elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly,
+and said, "That's surely very nice for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the
+Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a
+farewell walk to-night. You first"&mdash;she indicated the Philosopher. "Or
+shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?"</p>
+
+<p>She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been
+no way out for him.</p>
+
+<p>"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a
+conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice
+of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for
+mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther
+takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll
+wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had
+not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce
+him, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">[Page 42]</a></span> Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well
+away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among
+some bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's
+over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such
+easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the
+Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently.</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't! Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as
+before, but quite firmly.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't
+know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It
+would be delightful on the river."</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head again.</p>
+
+<p>"Not nicer than here," she answered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">[Page 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the
+Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the
+Philosopher to lean upon.</p>
+
+<p>"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be
+clear in."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady rose.</p>
+
+<p>"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice.
+"Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even
+after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall.</p>
+
+<p>"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that
+sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may
+possibly think they're in the same class."</p>
+
+<p>I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out
+between them.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">[Page 44]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="I_IV" id="I_IV">IV</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="rhodora1" id="rhodora1">RHODORA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from
+Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong
+to us exclusively&mdash;she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all
+of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora
+is a new granddaughter of the old lady&mdash;by which I mean to say that
+Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl
+arrived to pay her a visit.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily
+upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought
+I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">[Page 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It
+was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as
+the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own.
+But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a
+gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright,
+and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor
+into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed
+her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then
+she sat by her, listening and talking&mdash;doing much more listening than
+talking&mdash;leaving Rhodora to me.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with
+them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and
+won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">[Page 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's
+point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I
+believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen."</p>
+
+<p>"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while
+lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if
+she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady.</p>
+
+<p>"How old is she?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I have never asked her."</p>
+
+<p>"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never
+settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she
+observed sagely.</p>
+
+<p>I opened my lips&mdash;and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about
+ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests&mdash;if
+one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking
+observations upon Rhodora.</p>
+
+<p>She was decidedly a handsome girl&mdash;handsome seems the word. She was
+rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">[Page 47]</a></span> large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat
+strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her
+arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her
+arms were considerably in evidence.</p>
+
+<p>"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my
+little black silk bag from the carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she
+inquired of me.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to
+search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away
+down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the
+carriage. She came back bringing it.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have
+repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling
+that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">[Page 48]</a></span> and that,
+in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as
+girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute
+for one.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I
+understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine
+oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by
+dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted
+two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of
+stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could
+quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora
+accepted them and did her best.</p>
+
+<p>When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to
+the white room.</p>
+
+<p>"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her
+white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong
+one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time.
+Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">[Page 49]</a></span> peer over her shoulder, and
+seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow,
+as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's
+delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself.</p>
+
+<p>Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used
+one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung
+all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel,
+and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its
+rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag.
+Rhodora caught sight of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've
+lost mine, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely
+embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from
+her bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">[Page 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day,"
+she assured the handkerchief's owner.</p>
+
+<p>I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took
+Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and
+tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt
+from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the
+distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon
+Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the
+window, keeping guard.</p>
+
+<p>"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's
+first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the
+figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and
+came over to the couch and bent down, smiling.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry.
+Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared
+presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most
+dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">[Page 51]</a></span>reputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty
+of water, in the twinkling of an eye.</p>
+
+<p>They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were
+summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The
+Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and
+followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table
+she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever
+springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The
+old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she
+was accustomed.</p>
+
+<p>At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner
+she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were
+too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora,
+beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately
+afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most
+interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did
+now. We were all charmed with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">[Page 52]</a></span> clever way of putting things, her
+shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch.
+The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close
+by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen
+between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to.
+The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly,
+but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black
+eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour
+she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I
+spoke to them.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I
+ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter.
+"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as
+well&mdash;I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">[Page 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the
+evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her&mdash;she
+is an admirable player&mdash;but he beat her until he discovered that she was
+growing very much annoyed&mdash;then he allowed her to win the last set by a
+game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his
+breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the
+garden and over the place generally.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said
+Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken
+their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and
+the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own.</p>
+
+<p>Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old
+people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to
+the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be."</p>
+
+<p>"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the
+Philosopher,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">[Page 54]</a></span> in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most
+beautiful old lady I ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old
+persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher opened his mouth&mdash;and closed it again, quite as I had
+done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I
+should judge he was thinking: "After all&mdash;what's the use?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother
+was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind
+her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a
+great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she
+coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its
+black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a
+minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish
+expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then,
+years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he
+wanted to kiss her, but we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">[Page 55]</a></span> all looking on, and they had known each
+other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the
+little scene which touched us all&mdash;except Rhodora, who exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious, Grandmother&mdash;I suppose that brings back the days when you had
+lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is,
+anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag
+of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with
+Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our
+hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away
+with her down the driveway.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of
+sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house,
+"that a girl like that can't see herself."</p>
+
+<p>"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as
+old as the Gay Lady&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">[Page 56]</a></span> looking ahead at the Gay
+Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house.
+"The two are no more the same sort&mdash;than&mdash;&mdash;" he looked toward the
+garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found
+it, when searching after similes for the women he knows&mdash;"than those
+yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like&mdash;a clump of hepaticas that you
+find in the woods in spring."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone
+in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat
+silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to
+follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight&mdash;if they did she
+would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to
+hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything
+to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but
+before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again.</p>
+
+<p>"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music
+stopped, "I used<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">[Page 57]</a></span> to pick out men to admire and follow about, and
+consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How
+could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady
+and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one
+of them."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing
+than that," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had
+stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my
+attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a
+sentimental mood.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried,
+when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night.</p>
+
+<p>"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have
+anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods,"
+said he.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">[Page 58]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="I_V" id="I_V"></a>V</h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="azalea1" id="azalea1">AZALEA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 20em;">&mdash;<i>Arthur Christopher Benson.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">"The</span> heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's
+room. "Cook is ill&mdash;I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little
+waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at
+the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she
+made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a
+blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry&mdash;I'll be down in three
+minutes," she assured me cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>I found Lad building the kitchen fire&mdash;in the country we do not have gas
+ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy
+way camping last year."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">[Page 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a
+feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had
+helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the
+cream.</p>
+
+<p>Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a
+delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is
+very clever and entertaining&mdash;everybody likes her.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the
+breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher
+and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we
+should get on very well.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I
+flatter myself I can do as well as the next man&mdash;or woman. Consider me
+at your service."</p>
+
+<p>"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And&mdash;I say&mdash;don't fuss
+too much. Have a cold lunch&mdash;bread and milk, you know, or something
+like that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">[Page 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five
+years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant&mdash;and those were
+happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for
+both the Gay Lady's pretty hands&mdash;they were very accomplished in
+household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham.</p>
+
+<p>"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready
+for you."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying
+anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You
+remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster."</p>
+
+<p>From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt
+Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen
+into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood,
+every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">[Page 61]</a></span> Azalea play. In the
+evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast,
+and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was
+listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as
+I went about the "upstairs work"&mdash;work that the Skeptic, with all his
+good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain
+thresholds&mdash;that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go
+away next week.</p>
+
+<p>The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so
+much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners
+are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our
+r&eacute;gime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt
+our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of
+the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay
+Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many
+steps and the exercise of some tact&mdash;Cook having been fully persuaded
+all day that her end was near.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told her six times that people don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">[Page 62]</a></span> die of lumbago," said the
+Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written
+three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have
+to write her last will and testament."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own
+documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she
+did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party
+of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves
+upon us with warm greetings&mdash;and hungry looks toward our dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the
+kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we
+had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and
+left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons
+as could be done without a full bath&mdash;"why didn't you send them on to
+the village inn? Of all the nerve!&mdash;and you don't know any of them
+intimately, do you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">[Page 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I
+admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you
+suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some
+beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak
+is what they must have&mdash;porterhouse&mdash;since I've not enough broilers in
+the ice-box to go around that hungry company."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my
+ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just
+sitting on the porch, looking pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded,
+without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat
+the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other
+things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things
+with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked
+at her appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to
+himself as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">[Page 64]</a></span> swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with
+Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her
+devotedly.</p>
+
+<p>We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off,"
+commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the
+broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white
+breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the
+manner of the unselfish host.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They
+looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for
+two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they
+always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running
+many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our
+hospitality&mdash;two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and
+drink before they could get up steam with which to start&mdash;the Gay Lady
+and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the
+state of things existing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">[Page 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon&mdash;&mdash;" said I dejectedly, and did
+not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five
+extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that
+had been left in the house that would do for dinner&mdash;due now in three
+short hours.</p>
+
+<p>But the Gay Lady rallied nobly.</p>
+
+<p>"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt
+away in no time. Then&mdash;you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get
+any dinner to-night or not."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a
+jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the
+occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling
+rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned
+that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a
+dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That
+delicate touch of yours&mdash;why, I never heard anybody who could play<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">[Page 66]</a></span>
+<i>pianissimo</i>&mdash;<i>legato</i>&mdash;<i>cantabile</i>&mdash;like you. You wouldn't break a
+spun-glass rainbow."</p>
+
+<p>Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry
+more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six.
+Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it
+to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old
+first-baseman."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He
+had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor&mdash;which is of
+hardwood, with a centre rug&mdash;and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic
+jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea
+looked at them both wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she
+inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just
+lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them
+all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one.</p>
+
+<p>"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere,
+you know, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">[Page 67]</a></span> sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly
+to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off&mdash;don't you? See
+here"&mdash;he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See
+here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner
+to-night&mdash;with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are
+tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to
+do it faithfully."</p>
+
+<p>He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring
+suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could
+make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know
+whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of
+china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is
+even to mention dinner in my presence."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I
+should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I
+think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">[Page 68]</a></span> is
+that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay
+Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop
+the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she
+disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do
+but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the
+contents in through the window.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains,
+and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she
+dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again&mdash;I don't know why. I
+wondered casually what he would give for one like it.</p>
+
+<p>When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into
+thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my
+door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all
+ready," he was calling.</p>
+
+<p>I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">[Page 69]</a></span>ing. I went down to preside at
+the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady&mdash;in white
+muslin, with cheeks like roses&mdash;seemed not in the least fatigued. The
+Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces
+win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious.
+Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order&mdash;matters which were
+dispatched like wildfire&mdash;we gathered upon the porch as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady
+presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a
+cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to
+melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear,
+after all those dishes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his
+request to the Gay Lady's.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">[Page 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and
+evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous
+with your great art&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly.</p>
+
+<p>I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful
+speaking voice, as singers are apt to have.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise&mdash;and anxiety. Azalea
+was a very lovely girl&mdash;nobody had meant to hurt her.</p>
+
+<p>Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier
+than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would
+give&mdash;years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing
+Beethoven's '<i>Adelaide</i>.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though
+more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the
+half-lit living room.</p>
+
+<p>"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's
+face, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">[Page 71]</a></span> way he has when he wants to say things very much but is
+doubtful how she will take them&mdash;a condition he is frequently in.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head&mdash;I think she must have been smiling. It was so
+evident&mdash;that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her
+own accomplishments&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said.</p>
+
+<p>So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic
+heard.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">[Page 72]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="I_VI" id="I_VI">VI</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="hepatica1" id="hepatica1">HEPATICA</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Here's metal more attractive.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">&mdash;<i>Hamlet.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us
+remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner
+without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite
+of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if
+anything were wrong.</p>
+
+<p>When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first
+to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I
+didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference&mdash;till she got
+away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a
+joke."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the
+Philosopher, laying a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">[Page 73]</a></span> friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood
+on the porch step below him.</p>
+
+<p>"You do&mdash;if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice
+what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and
+laugh too&mdash;to please her, I suppose," he added.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty
+sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before
+that I take my cue from the Gay Lady&mdash;or from any one else&mdash;when it
+comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't
+laugh&mdash;all by myself."</p>
+
+<p>Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean
+it. She always means it. Besides&mdash;she thinks things are funny that you
+don't. She's 'most as good as a boy&mdash;and I don't see how she can be,
+either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's
+essentially feminine, if ever a girl was."</p>
+
+<p>"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">[Page 74]</a></span> That is&mdash;I thought she
+was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was
+puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the
+sunset&mdash;which was unusually fine that evening&mdash;gave utterance to a deep
+note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever
+there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it
+was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks&mdash;even the blooming
+youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not
+made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means
+what is known as a "beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this
+summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no
+doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his
+hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either&mdash;except Dahlia. I can't stand
+her," he added resentfully.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who
+could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic re<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">[Page 75]</a></span>moved his pipe from his
+mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by
+Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women
+behind their backs.</p>
+
+<p>"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has
+surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out
+on the river with you&mdash;and helped you make kites, and rigged little
+ships for you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me&mdash;when she can't get
+a man!"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently.
+Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly
+removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch
+step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I
+shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after
+some small puppies down there in the hay.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and
+the others made<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">[Page 76]</a></span> a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless
+and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an
+invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher
+consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with
+formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman
+lets a man go&mdash;that he may return.</p>
+
+<p>They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my
+feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they
+were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad
+had introduced.</p>
+
+<p>"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it
+would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at
+me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with
+their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a
+comparatively small amount of money."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she one of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">[Page 77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see,
+I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an
+observant eye on&mdash;on these young ladies you've had here from time to
+time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you
+mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well
+brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future&mdash;I mean for the
+next few years after school?&mdash;I don't know that I make myself clear.
+What I want to get at is&mdash;You see, the great thing a young chap thinks
+about is what he is going to make of himself&mdash;and how to do it. It
+struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any
+particular end in view&mdash;at least, that ever came out in her
+conversation."</p>
+
+<p>I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his
+hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great
+pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He
+who runs may read."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">[Page 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from
+the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and
+last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran&mdash;unless you have
+eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me
+believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they
+wouldn't do some of the things they do."</p>
+
+<p>"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before,
+in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold
+forth upon this subject.</p>
+
+<p>"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly&mdash;to my great
+surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of
+the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it&mdash;in public&mdash;in private.
+Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage.
+If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer
+did that thing, each in her own way."</p>
+
+<p>I thought about them&mdash;one after another. It was true. Each had, in her
+own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">[Page 79]</a></span> Gay Lady, than whom
+nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the
+foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And
+somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes,
+quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady
+had happened to be.</p>
+
+<p>We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations,
+though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at
+an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In
+fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we
+continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could
+venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one
+another.</p>
+
+<p>On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on
+my walking with him in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite
+as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return.</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly wait," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">[Page 80]</a></span> knew I should miss her,
+but&mdash;smoke and ashes!&mdash;I didn't dream the week would be a period of time
+long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and
+back again."</p>
+
+<p>"If she could only hear that!" said I.</p>
+
+<p>"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's
+kept me quiet all summer, but&mdash;by a man's impatience!&mdash;she can't keep me
+quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look
+intently at me through the September twilight.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad
+grows up."</p>
+
+<p>"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on
+my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as
+looks go. But in mind&mdash;and heart&mdash;well, the only thing is, I'm so far
+below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly
+sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to
+put my finger on what makes her what she is&mdash;I can't tell."</p>
+
+<p>"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done
+it&mdash;womanly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">[Page 81]</a></span> sweetness and strength. Hepatica is&mdash;Hepatica. And being
+that, we love her."</p>
+
+<p>"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it
+a grip which stung.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until
+evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall
+as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment
+and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into
+mine, and I heard her eager whisper&mdash;"I'm so glad to get back to <i>you!</i>"
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little
+fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other
+like&mdash;well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals.
+The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first,
+and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best
+friend, had never<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">[Page 82]</a></span> allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had
+detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion
+of what might have happened if he had let it, but&mdash;there was only a very
+warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked
+back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see
+anything else.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and
+you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was
+another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and
+from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human
+habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling
+dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks,
+and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had
+made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near
+crying, and said there was never such another place as this.</p>
+
+<p>"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and
+received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">[Page 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and
+waited&mdash;he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the
+porch with the others she was there&mdash;and not a minute after.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee.
+Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The
+Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite
+unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail
+at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence,
+had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river.</p>
+
+<p>"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat
+breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his
+having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn
+proverb. "No&mdash;don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and
+tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">[Page 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My
+sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat
+down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious
+to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as
+it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly
+recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense&mdash;with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down."</p>
+
+<p>I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep
+shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the
+time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">[Page 85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">[Page86]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II">PART II</a></h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">[Page 87]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_I" id="II_I"></a>I</h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="dahlia2" id="dahlia2">DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 8em;">Amen</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stuck in my throat.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">&mdash;<i>Macbeth.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a
+beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over
+all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my
+country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to
+allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my
+hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter
+in the country&mdash;connected by trolley with the town&mdash;is hardly less
+delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing
+arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit
+in the heart of the season.</p>
+
+<p>On the first morning at breakfast&mdash;I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">[Page 88]</a></span> arrived late the night
+before&mdash;there was much to talk about.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown
+coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I
+discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you
+that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;avoiding!" I interpolated.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three
+of those girls are married and living in town."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who
+else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The
+Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then
+they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic
+announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses."</p>
+
+<p>I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next
+neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">[Page 89]</a></span> there had
+been no announcement of any engagement&mdash;nor sign of one.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he
+considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised,"
+he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and
+though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight
+of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be
+walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled
+in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."</p>
+
+<p>"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not&mdash;our Professor?"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic nodded solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before
+yesterday he was free!"</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and
+hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A
+minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at
+the window, was returning his wave.</p>
+
+<p>"He's looking extremely well," I observed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">[Page 90]</a></span> "He must be twenty pounds
+heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably
+rather thinning."</p>
+
+<p>"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the
+Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty
+breakfast we had just consumed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't
+it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was
+literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely
+how it happened."</p>
+
+<p>"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to
+see them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term&mdash;he couldn't take her
+away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you
+were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours."</p>
+
+<p>We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon
+them. The Philosopher came in that evening&mdash;he had known of my coming
+from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">[Page 91]</a></span> was looking
+rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and
+altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand,
+and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a
+beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert
+to be given on the following evening.</p>
+
+<p>We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and
+dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You
+feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed;
+upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think
+it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time
+when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within
+call from the porch all the way."</p>
+
+<p>But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over
+old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through
+Germany, and he and I had not met for many months.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">[Page 92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There
+was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the
+change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as
+in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers
+and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for
+nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our
+old friendship&mdash;as there could be nothing more satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past
+Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle
+and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us.
+I turned to the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed
+interestedly that way.</p>
+
+<p>As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been
+turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening
+coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality,
+and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The
+Professor&mdash;eighteen years Dahlia's senior,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">[Page 93]</a></span> but one of the best men who
+ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered&mdash;turned and
+scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling
+recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia
+continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time
+with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear,
+though he did not again turn toward us.</p>
+
+<p>As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we
+fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them
+somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of
+dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair
+seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's
+luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly
+that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in
+itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic leaned forward again.</p>
+
+<p>"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">[Page 94]</a></span> flirtation with her to-night, if
+I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn
+tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade
+later than his. If I were only sitting next her!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to
+the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia
+stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed
+the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings
+with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome
+person, was at Dahlia's elbow.</p>
+
+<p>For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well,
+perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a
+proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both
+sides of him?"</p>
+
+<p>I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous
+conductor of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">[Page 95]</a></span> famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the
+stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the
+audience we became silent.</p>
+
+<p>But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the
+eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The
+Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties
+of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the
+bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her
+undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an
+able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was
+half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme
+which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old
+game with a trained hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear,
+during an intermission.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a
+devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">[Page 96]</a></span> mean anything to
+her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit."</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the
+Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man
+at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a
+conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly
+way&mdash;and confine it to the intervals between numbers&mdash;one might be able
+to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of
+hers&mdash;those smiles, those archings of the neck&mdash;those lengthy looks up
+into the eyes of that fool&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't look at them," I advised.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at
+them&mdash;including yourself."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true&mdash;everybody was, even people considerably out of range.
+If Dahlia herself was conscious of this&mdash;and I'm sure she must have
+been&mdash;she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is
+even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her
+when we had owned to all her attractiveness&mdash;"if only!"</p>
+
+<p>"After all," urged Hepatica, on the home<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">[Page 97]</a></span>ward way, "we've no right to
+judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them
+alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to
+come and see us very soon.&mdash;I suggested to-morrow night, so they will
+come then."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher&mdash;quite before he was asked.</p>
+
+<p>So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear
+Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman
+in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for
+her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other
+men.</p>
+
+<p>"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the
+Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She
+accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which
+gave life to her remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the
+Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone.</p>
+
+<p>"You used to have better luck when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">[Page 98]</a></span> went alone," said Dahlia. "Do
+you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any
+fish our way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river,
+first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the
+Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was
+fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the
+Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and
+see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to
+the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the
+moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking
+is good there&mdash;keeps away the midges."</p>
+
+<p>"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that
+part of the country."</p>
+
+<p>"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in
+the evening, then,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">[Page 99]</a></span> persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to
+settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was
+always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin."</p>
+
+<p>Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us
+to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly
+face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish
+demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to
+demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his
+side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself
+occupied&mdash;also quite as of old&mdash;with keeping out of her way. Altogether,
+it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the
+impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected
+suitors of her own.</p>
+
+<p>When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's
+backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?"
+he requested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">[Page 100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his
+pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there.
+Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long
+shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only
+within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had
+caused them to separate.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered
+remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as
+consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You
+couldn't have prevented his madness."</p>
+
+<p>"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage
+licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned
+the Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp
+under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with
+lemons and sugar and things."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">[Page 101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage
+is a failure."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your
+marriage," he owned.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">[Page 102]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_II" id="II_II">II</a></h2>
+<h3 class="center"><a name="camellia2" id="camellia2">CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am ashamed that women are so simple</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To offer war when they should kneel for peace.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>Taming of the Shrew.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">We</span> are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my
+hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note
+which the hall-boy had just brought to the door.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over
+me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have
+I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who
+cares about as much what he wears as I do."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica
+thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining.
+My dear, she has a butler."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">[Page 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?"</p>
+
+<p>"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic
+warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't
+prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go
+there&mdash;particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's
+invited now?"</p>
+
+<p>"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care
+not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had.
+Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not
+exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What
+enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of
+that? Has it not been so for many years?&mdash;and will be so, I trust, for
+all to come.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we
+owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she
+put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and
+thought could make us. When we arrived we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">[Page 104]</a></span> doubly glad that this
+was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same
+feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been
+wont to do.</p>
+
+<p>Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked
+considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant
+engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant
+interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining,
+had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and
+her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her
+senior&mdash;quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's&mdash;but
+on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so
+pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less
+strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right
+hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most
+interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in
+time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the
+length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more
+to eat than I wanted.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo2_big.jpg"><img title="illustration2.jpg" height="400" width="281" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration2.jpg"></img></a></p>
+<p class="caption">"Camellia herself was as exquisitely<br /> arrayed as ever"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">[Page 105]</a></span></p><p>"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives,
+to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men
+came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica
+and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into
+his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon
+to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two&mdash;if she
+were wise enough to heed it. Why two people&mdash;but I've just eaten their
+salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my
+accusing look, and forbore to say more.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said
+Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of
+course&mdash;just some of our neighbours."</p>
+
+<p>I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the
+Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances
+up again.</p>
+
+<p>But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I
+doubt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">[Page 106]</a></span> if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they
+don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do&mdash;however egotistic
+that may sound."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the
+Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."&mdash;The Judge only lifted his
+handsome eyebrows.&mdash;"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia.
+"Mrs. Liscombe sings."</p>
+
+<p>The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above
+his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy
+hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry Hodgson recites&mdash;we always have him when we want to make things
+go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among
+his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so
+likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about
+to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">[Page 107]</a></span> his wife's
+tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came
+back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having
+sealed our fate for the succeeding evening.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day&mdash;it was
+a legal holiday&mdash;with the Judge in his private den up on the third
+floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a
+big, bare room&mdash;this was her characterization&mdash;principally fireplace,
+easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place
+in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any
+sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from
+below stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I
+don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings
+here&mdash;when I don't actually force him to go out with me&mdash;and I spend
+mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the
+Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They
+understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">[Page 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife.
+I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view.
+Eccentric&mdash;because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and
+outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and
+his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings."
+I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite
+without having seen them.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray.
+Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured
+them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part
+among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society
+of a company of town-bred squirrels.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang,
+being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She
+possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be
+classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she
+took certain notes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">[Page 109]</a></span> I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable
+sensation in the back of my neck.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the
+Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and
+unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the
+drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor
+voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have
+to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first
+moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies
+were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led
+ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not
+quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the
+whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear little fellow!"&mdash;it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let
+him go to war&mdash;and he so young and tender?"</p>
+
+<p>I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">[Page 110]</a></span> after his final reading; I
+can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview
+could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the
+Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of
+music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by
+that grave and interested air of his&mdash;a slight frown of concentrated
+attention between his well-marked eyebrows&mdash;into thinking him deeply
+impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she
+delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which
+at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed
+absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully
+classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen.</p>
+
+<p>When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room,
+three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the
+Judge's den.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe
+beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and
+trailing, loose garments, she came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">[Page 111]</a></span> my room through the door which
+we had discovered could be opened between our quarters.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the
+leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?"</p>
+
+<p>"One cannot."</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the
+details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me.</p>
+
+<p>"So she has."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to
+eat for a day or two after we go back?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hodgson's readings were&mdash;entirely new to me; were they to you? I
+had never heard of the authors."</p>
+
+<p>"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">[Page 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a
+trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so
+incessantly."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted," I agreed.</p>
+
+<p>I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck
+buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered
+laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under
+control.</p>
+
+<p>We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of
+his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went
+to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is
+worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a
+long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort.</p>
+
+<p>"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we
+came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth."</p>
+
+<p>Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached
+home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate&mdash;which is much
+better than none at all&mdash;and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">[Page 113]</a></span> turned off the electrics. We sat before
+the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left
+their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of
+letting loose the dogs of war.</p>
+
+<p>"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute
+a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I
+think of the Judge&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the
+sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living
+upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of
+married happiness."</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his
+head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is
+the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man."</p>
+
+<p>"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They
+even<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">[Page 114]</a></span> befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember&mdash;till I
+discovered that not all is gold that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We
+had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary
+paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all
+your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the
+fireworks to have full play."</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and
+drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never
+swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to
+lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home
+like this, it would help things any?"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully.
+"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now,
+to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be
+absolute diversity of tastes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">[Page 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine
+clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him.</p>
+
+<p>"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is
+abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see
+something besides the shop-windows."</p>
+
+<p>"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him.</p>
+
+<p>"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the
+Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole
+up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.&mdash;It often
+lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the
+particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention.
+When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again,
+chuckling to myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't
+have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">[Page 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic.
+But we knew he didn't think it.</p>
+
+<p>"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself.</p>
+
+<p>"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a
+most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens."</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">[Page 117]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_III" id="II_III">III</a></h2>
+<h3 class="center"><a name="azalea2" id="azalea2">AZALEA AND THE CASHIER</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mother is a mother still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">The holiest thing alive.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>S. T. Coleridge.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">I am</span> to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said
+good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that
+you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on
+account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but
+she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only
+chance I shall have to see her husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the
+Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a
+musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time."</p>
+
+<p>"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much
+courage to marry her."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">[Page 118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"All right&mdash;we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be
+over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll
+be ready to start."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you&mdash;it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned.
+"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call
+me if anything should detain Philo."</p>
+
+<p>I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly
+asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is
+nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at
+once was a bribe indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two
+children&mdash;the two-year-old&mdash;on her arm. He was evidently just ready for
+his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck
+temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm,
+pushing back the loose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">[Page 119]</a></span> curling locks from her forehead as she did so,
+explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the
+least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that,
+enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than
+she had been upon the porch at the Farm.</p>
+
+<p>I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing
+Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we
+went into the nursery&mdash;which had been the guest-room before the second
+baby came&mdash;so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump
+and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once&mdash;when his mother
+inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he
+smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small
+sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished
+with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a
+minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her
+away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">[Page 120]</a></span>
+Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are
+heavenly!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>We had a busy day&mdash;made up of babies, with more or less talk between,
+which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put
+everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the
+day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children,
+also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the
+table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in
+the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close
+beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed
+all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to
+hearing you sing this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has
+a splendid voice."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">[Page 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never
+does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can
+never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or
+Dot. And that's not worth while."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really
+can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher
+comes he will be so anxious to have you sing."</p>
+
+<p>"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't
+very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of
+course."</p>
+
+<p>She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested.
+So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go,
+followed and stood by her knee&mdash;on her trailing skirts. I don't know how
+she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did&mdash;at least subdued
+chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes
+before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the
+two small faces as she sang.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">[Page 122]</a></span> And, of course, it was a lullaby which
+fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips.</p>
+
+<p>When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist.
+Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart
+like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light
+at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing
+lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by,
+was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no
+doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with
+a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with
+satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the
+welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow.
+I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for
+dinner a game in which the little child could join.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo3_big.jpg"><img title="illustration3.jpg" height="298" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration3.jpg"></img></a></p>
+
+<p class="caption">"The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the
+grand piano, with the babies<br /> in her arms and at her knee ... was quite
+irresistible"</p>
+
+<p>But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The
+Cashier<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">[Page 123]</a></span> remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he
+excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I
+think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked
+away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived.</p>
+
+<p>I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and
+I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I
+cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are
+going to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know
+there were any babies."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room.
+"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious
+mind of yours, instead of limiting it to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex&mdash;quick!" commanded the
+Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they
+come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a
+bachelor to dine, anyhow?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">[Page 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had
+developed wonderfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the
+Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. I mean that she's&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about
+his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his
+dignity as he entered.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher
+genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward
+the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you
+know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?"</p>
+
+<p>The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had
+a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at
+keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts
+to meet him at the sport.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood,
+and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano.
+"Come, Arthur,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">[Page 125]</a></span> she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of
+music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'"</p>
+
+<p>The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear,
+dear," he declared.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think.
+Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing
+so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies."</p>
+
+<p>But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were
+specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company.
+Come, Arthur&mdash;please."</p>
+
+<p>So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid
+each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,'
+no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the
+summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we
+could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the
+babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">[Page 126]</a></span> did not
+desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I
+cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to
+the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the
+Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary
+triumph. Then she turned about to us.</p>
+
+<p>"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped
+hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of
+this, but I could not equal it.</p>
+
+<p>"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are
+awake,"&mdash;and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really
+not imagine the two voices together.</p>
+
+<p>Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is
+good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd
+never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It
+needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a
+quality that will improve with cultivation."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">[Page 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing
+for them, my girl," he commanded&mdash;and looking up at him again, Azalea
+obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the
+range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by
+and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet,
+half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle
+of a bar, and fled up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an
+expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too,
+"nothing really counts in this house but the babies."</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently.</p>
+
+<p>The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes&mdash;and something else," he
+agreed with his bright smile.</p>
+
+<p>We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the
+door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the
+night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">[Page 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I looked up, too&mdash;at the nursery windows where the faintest of
+night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big
+enough, although it holds so much."</p>
+
+<p>"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than
+the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to
+hold Azalea's voice," he mused.</p>
+
+<p>"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I
+replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be
+wasted on a concert audience."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a pleasant home."</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> one."</p>
+
+<p>"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make
+pleasant homes."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative
+of other arts?"</p>
+
+<p>"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to
+strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I
+believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">[Page 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her
+accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about
+Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell
+her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a
+one as even Hepatica's could be."</p>
+
+<p>"One thing is sure&mdash;as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in
+the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion
+for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for
+her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What&mdash;are we at our
+station already? I say&mdash;let's not make a quick trip by train&mdash;let's make
+a slow one, by cab."</p>
+
+<p>"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no&mdash;here comes our train."</p>
+
+<p>"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here
+without two alert chaperons&mdash;younger than myself," grumbled the
+Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my
+account."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">[Page 130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon
+the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats.</p>
+
+<p>"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected.</p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">[Page 131]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_IV" id="II_IV">IV</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="althea2" id="althea2">ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">because of the qualities that he does possess.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&mdash;<i>Arthur Christopher Benson.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"'<i><span class="smcap">Be</span> it ever so humble</i>,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me,
+"'<i>there's no place like</i>&mdash;&mdash;'"</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed
+warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night,
+and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were
+under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under
+their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent
+remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel
+Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived
+under it I'd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Promoter was approaching us<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">[Page 132]</a></span> again, with the news that dinner
+had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me,
+Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic
+brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic,
+pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid
+him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of
+some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the
+well-known words concerning the humble home.</p>
+
+<p>"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I
+had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect
+from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?"</p>
+
+<p>We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The
+Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene
+with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder
+dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving
+line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an
+apostrophe on the magnificence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">[Page 133]</a></span> before him which would have alienated
+Althea and her husband forevermore.</p>
+
+<p>"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the
+Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name,
+and I think none of us were able to recognize it.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It
+seems stout."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added the
+Promoter.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the
+Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.</p>
+
+<p>In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing
+an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening
+finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining
+hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the
+first impression sink in.</p>
+
+<p>"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of
+course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy
+this better. There's nothing like it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">[Page 134]</a></span> anywhere. It's absolutely
+cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here
+to-night&mdash;are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice
+the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the
+iron magnate. With his party is a French actress&mdash;worshipped on both
+sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled."</p>
+
+<p>A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our
+places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive
+orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then
+raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I
+suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither
+of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.</p>
+
+<p>The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and
+puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat
+and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns
+the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of
+being hostess to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">[Page 135]</a></span> party which must appreciate the privilege of dining
+under such auspices.</p>
+
+<p>Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The
+Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the
+time&mdash;Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her
+simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink,
+embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea
+devoted herself to the Philosopher&mdash;she and the Skeptic had never got on
+very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under
+cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of
+millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note
+due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and
+minnows&mdash;and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at
+the next gulp&mdash;&mdash;What in the name of time is this we're eating now?"</p>
+
+<p>I expressed my ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">[Page 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from
+an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was
+not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers&mdash;also for the third time.
+A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused
+only the first offering of the waiter.</p>
+
+<p>The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised
+contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome
+those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's
+not another in the room."</p>
+
+<p>If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the
+brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said
+I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose
+high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my
+left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage
+and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head
+was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">[Page 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great
+<i>coups</i> made by men who had the daring.</p>
+
+<p>"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the
+Philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're
+not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can
+win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide."</p>
+
+<p>Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of
+the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop
+out of the heads of these simple people."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat.
+Think of living in a place like this&mdash;having this every day&mdash;common,
+like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and
+johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French
+name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it.
+I say&mdash;the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>We had been late in coming down, and at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">[Page 138]</a></span> many tables people were nearing
+the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had
+been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more
+distant tables.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I
+shall never be able to make it seem to me just&mdash;just&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the
+present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly
+led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men."</p>
+
+<p>After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I
+felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of
+air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us&mdash;a
+private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place
+to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of
+entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness
+was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her
+carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">[Page 139]</a></span> for
+our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of
+personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of
+hostelries like the Amazon.</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle
+silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company
+of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time
+to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision
+growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found
+myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic&mdash;but
+the Skeptic was incorrigible.</p>
+
+<p>"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to
+buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I
+have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have
+to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request
+him to insert it in the slit for me?"</p>
+
+<p>The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he.
+"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">[Page 140]</a></span> deep when they go by
+it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said
+he, "where it's more highly charged."</p>
+
+<p>At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many
+floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator,
+padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's
+eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the
+realization that some time we should be out and away together in the
+fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to
+see things from the Philosopher's point of view.</p>
+
+<p>We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic
+passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the
+wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly
+humming an air. It was, "<i>Be it ever so humble</i>," again.</p>
+
+<p>The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and
+sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">[Page 141]</a></span> of gas-logs.
+There were a few&mdash;not many&mdash;apparently personal belongings about the
+rooms; <i>bric-&agrave;-brac</i> and photographs&mdash;the latter mostly of actors and
+opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which
+reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few
+years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the
+effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me.
+She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales
+of the great strokes of business he had brought off&mdash;"deals," he called
+them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of
+revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we
+should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not
+guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular
+novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could
+I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish
+material for conversation. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">[Page 142]</a></span> tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a
+certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself
+comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud
+to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was
+not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set
+high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must,
+perforce&mdash;for he needs a strong light for reading&mdash;have stood close
+under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to
+fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening&mdash;or appearing to
+listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it
+up.</p>
+
+<p>At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the
+Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink.
+This really seemed superfluous, and&mdash;judging by the straightforward gait
+of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits&mdash;there is
+no doubt that it was.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from
+the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">[Page 143]</a></span> his gaze
+upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths
+of the frosty air.</p>
+
+<p>"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's
+a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined&mdash;but
+it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best
+clothes on, perpetually going to a fair."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher,
+"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of
+stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for
+the development of something else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private
+dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample
+of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the
+grill-room, all by yourself&mdash;then you can find out what he is when he's
+after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears
+stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he
+pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to
+live at the Amazon."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">[Page 144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>"Likes it down to the ground&mdash;and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic.
+"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping&mdash;and picking up her room,"
+he added softly to Hepatica&mdash;but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on,
+"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that
+feast of porpoises."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned
+aside into quieter streets.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables
+to-night&mdash;with four exceptions."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other
+wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from
+your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were
+inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't
+flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were
+moments during that meal when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">[Page 145]</a></span> any unprejudiced observer who didn't know
+you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other
+engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught
+sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table
+and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of
+course. Our set, you know!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then&mdash;it's the ladies who did
+succeed in looking like visitants from another world."</p>
+
+<p>This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to
+wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she
+really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which
+had been three times made over.</p>
+
+<p>"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly
+old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some
+other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently.</p>
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">[Page 146]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_V" id="II_V">V</a></h2>
+<h3 class="center"><a name="rhodora2" id="rhodora2">RHODORA AND THE PREACHER</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>When the fight begins within himself</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>A man's worth something.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><i>&mdash;Robert Browning.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it
+had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with
+us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As
+Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which
+was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically
+under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent
+to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her
+father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion,
+been glad to let her have the girl to bring up&mdash;or to finish bringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">[Page 147]</a></span>
+up&mdash;according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there
+could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To
+that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she
+made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never
+occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant
+then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say
+was the name of the unfortunate chap?"</p>
+
+<p>"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have
+developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a
+basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a
+girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's
+influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">[Page 148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the
+education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the
+conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk
+ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those
+things&mdash;in time&mdash;unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to
+learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And
+the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The
+Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished.</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw
+either of them but once."</p>
+
+<p>"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the
+Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">[Page 149]</a></span> "The Old Lady. She has never
+ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As
+I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as
+your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she
+undoubtedly once was.&mdash;Well, well&mdash;a preacher! What has Rhodora become
+that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not
+easily blinded!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter
+says a young clergyman."</p>
+
+<p>"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister.
+He's just a preacher&mdash;a raw youth, just out of college&mdash;knows as much
+about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a
+hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well&mdash;I suppose this
+means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>"It does, of course," she admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to
+carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">[Page 150]</a></span> use of a
+preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying
+wedding gifts, according to my observation."</p>
+
+<p>The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to
+Grandmother's lovely old country home&mdash;a stately house upon the banks of
+a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the
+one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora
+and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The
+wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests
+as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before
+they should go upstairs to dress.</p>
+
+<p>Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand
+the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair
+before their marriage.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In
+her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving
+everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can
+never feel one's self out of debt to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">[Page 151]</a></span> hospitality. Her greeting to
+the Philosopher was an especially cordial one.</p>
+
+<p>"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted
+to see you again&mdash;not merely because I have heard of you in the world
+where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice
+to my granddaughter, to have you see her again."</p>
+
+<p>Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora
+herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and
+graceful tread, was giving us welcome.</p>
+
+<p>It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had
+been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry
+rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having
+classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression
+sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that
+to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been
+undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that
+they considered a miracle had been wrought.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">[Page 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to
+do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she
+would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they
+had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even
+yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain
+type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of
+the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had
+not become that thing.</p>
+
+<p>Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down
+his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he
+was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even&mdash;in the sense that the
+Skeptic had differentiated these terms&mdash;but a preacher&mdash;and an embryo
+one at that&mdash;a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward,
+clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good
+in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but
+lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon
+after the dignities of his ordination, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">[Page 153]</a></span>&mdash;one could not tell how&mdash;one
+began to believe in him at once.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking
+together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit&mdash;except a little mission work a
+few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put
+on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first
+drill. But&mdash;I mean to count one!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in
+the sight.</p>
+
+<p>"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and
+two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve."</p>
+
+<p>"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should
+think she would make an efficient comrade."</p>
+
+<p>His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by
+Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a
+group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise
+centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put
+herself in the background. Although she towered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">[Page 154]</a></span> above the little old
+lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed
+a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown
+with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate
+face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at
+Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in
+the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient
+element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this
+old-time gentlewoman.</p>
+
+<p>"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in
+my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could
+set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a
+girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth
+while herself. They are great chums, you know&mdash;it's quite unusual, I
+think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother.
+I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew."</p>
+
+<p>"She's a very rare and adorable old lady,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">[Page 155]</a></span> I agreed heartily. "We all
+worship her&mdash;we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for
+any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora&mdash;she will miss her."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt of that," he agreed&mdash;but, quite naturally, more with triumph
+than with sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were
+dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square,
+upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint
+and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew
+some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in
+our wedding garments.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic,
+forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the
+possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell
+me&mdash;will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her
+pleasure in his pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">[Page 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his
+friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of
+her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a
+dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down.
+Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she
+were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she
+endured but was horribly bored by us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to
+be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is
+different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis
+of Rhodora."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as
+every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss
+Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out
+polished members of society. But there's been more than that."</p>
+
+<p>"The Preacher himself?" I suggested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">[Page 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised
+eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of
+acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative
+influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic.</p>
+
+<p>"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied
+the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic.
+"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand
+in the reformation?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which
+he comes&mdash;he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see
+that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training&mdash;boy as he looks.
+How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared
+for him?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">[Page 158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to
+me&mdash;and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very
+clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far&mdash;very
+far&mdash;we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate
+of life. Therefore&mdash;you must be very careful how you use your influence
+with us!"</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two
+belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our
+hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?"</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher smiled&mdash;inscrutably. Probably he felt that an
+inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these.</p>
+
+<p>We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while
+he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened
+again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora
+made a bonny bride. The absurd<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">[Page 159]</a></span> vision I had had of her, ever since I
+had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating
+clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself,
+melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made
+her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the
+conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace.</p>
+
+<p>"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing,
+as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to
+me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of
+barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and
+he"&mdash;her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband&mdash;"would
+never have dreamed of looking at me."</p>
+
+<p>"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle
+way, "from many girls of this day."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that
+only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">[Page 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what
+you could be. And now&mdash;I must lose you."</p>
+
+<p>The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and
+Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the
+others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had
+adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to
+want to see things clearly to-day.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said
+he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the
+participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a
+small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy&mdash;some of them, it seems,
+sometimes, with neither chart nor compass&mdash;certainly with little
+knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no
+ocean to you, then&mdash;and do you never feel adrift upon it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">[Page 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange
+speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had
+been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day
+when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to
+give him up&mdash;my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that
+day&mdash;far adrift.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute.</p>
+
+<p>I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly
+eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it&mdash;with so many and such
+good friends?"</p>
+
+<p>I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that
+moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him&mdash;figuratively
+speaking&mdash;and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with
+the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">[Page 162]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="II_VI" id="II_VI">VI</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="wistaria2" id="wistaria2">WISTARIA&mdash;AND THE PHILOSOPHER</a></h3>
+
+<div class="center"><table summary=""><tr><td>
+<p class="smaller"><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Friendship needs delicate handling.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">&mdash;<i>Hugh Black.</i></span><br /></p>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">After</span> all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one
+morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without
+our giving a dinner for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that
+isn't necessary. I have had&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the
+Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by
+that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat
+at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like
+anything of that name you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">[Page 163]</a></span> ever tried before. Besides she wants you
+to meet Wistaria."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Wistaria?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident
+surprise. "Wasn't she at his&mdash;&mdash;Oh, that's right&mdash;she was out of town.
+Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl&mdash;or,
+if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he
+condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me,
+Patty? All right&mdash;good-bye, dear."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window
+after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside,
+with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a
+touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things.</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It
+would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her
+invitations over the telephone I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">[Page 164]</a></span> recognized from their character that
+it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party,
+including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and
+the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining
+Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly
+divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition
+of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like.</p>
+
+<p>"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to
+like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married,
+and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his
+work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early
+forties."</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on
+the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom
+she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I
+laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant
+to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was
+thankful. For some reason, which I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">[Page 165]</a></span> not just understand myself, I
+was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long
+time.</p>
+
+<p>The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray
+frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of
+violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card
+in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time.
+It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>The guests arrived&mdash;Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so,
+Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress
+whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be
+straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had
+insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would
+allow her to come away.</p>
+
+<p>Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little
+rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the
+room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and
+graceful figure, all in black under a white<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">[Page 166]</a></span> evening cloak, and caught a
+glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf
+which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company,
+I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met.</p>
+
+<p>"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having
+welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell
+back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet
+warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had
+remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as
+her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing."</p>
+
+<p>"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I
+wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather
+over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt
+to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of
+pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring.</p>
+
+<p>Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">[Page 167]</a></span> white shoulders rose like
+a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite
+suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a
+colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than
+simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for
+a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation
+of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also.</p>
+
+<p>Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up
+smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a
+most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined
+that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make
+my companion long to get away.</p>
+
+<p>Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer
+on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend
+much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's
+absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat
+upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">[Page 168]</a></span> company
+to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help
+noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so
+roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite
+appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in
+appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to
+view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because
+he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific
+research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain
+important field.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I
+cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains
+with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that
+everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of
+having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a
+higher or a rarer compliment.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the
+Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have
+gently eyed some strange specimen in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">[Page 169]</a></span> world of insects or of birds.
+The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his
+way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period,
+both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer
+attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a
+few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the
+Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang
+alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow&mdash;it is all very hazy in my
+mind, except for one singular fact&mdash;I did not spend a moment with the
+Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that
+it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my
+immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with
+whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and
+include the Philosopher in the interview.</p>
+
+<p>When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car
+to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage,
+which was late in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">[Page 170]</a></span> arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had
+remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot
+remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as
+she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her
+white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson
+rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an
+expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the
+Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily.
+"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs
+and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock
+with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after
+eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She
+threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess
+who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">[Page 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was charmed with her," said I&mdash;I had not meant to take a seat again;
+I was weary and wanted to get away to bed&mdash;"I never knew how beautiful
+an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face."</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried.
+"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech.
+He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste."</p>
+
+<p>"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly
+planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits&mdash;there wasn't a dull
+moment."</p>
+
+<p>"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my
+hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you
+enjoy your Mining Engineer?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner
+than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating."</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make
+an ideal host?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">[Page 172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode
+over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully
+long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed
+he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the
+talking your guests over after they've gone&mdash;eh, Patty, girl? I don't
+seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her."</p>
+
+<p>I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so
+sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But
+you must both be tired, too&mdash;and we have to be up in the morning at the
+usual hour."</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt
+guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk
+things over, but really I&mdash;the perfume from my violets had been stealing
+away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow
+faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my
+door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A
+moment later I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">[Page 173]</a></span> was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and
+the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to
+take off.</p>
+
+<p>I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased.
+With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work
+congratulating each other on its success. By and by&mdash;I don't know when
+it happened&mdash;I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall,
+and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again&mdash;men's
+voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I
+opened it to Hepatica.</p>
+
+<p>"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my
+light&mdash;I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on
+the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't
+undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so
+disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of
+town quite suddenly&mdash;he's afraid he may not be back before you go&mdash;he
+says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">[Page 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was no help for it&mdash;I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my
+light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was
+still snug; then I went.</p>
+
+<p>Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded
+drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the
+dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the
+window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table,
+upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently
+he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go.</p>
+
+<p>The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door
+of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse
+me," he said. "I don't know <i>why</i> I am so sleepy." His tone was
+peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour
+before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I
+have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry
+you, Philo, old man." And he vanished.</p>
+
+<p>The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He
+drew his chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">[Page 175]</a></span> near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked
+at me in silence for a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"You are tired," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"A little. The rooms were very warm."</p>
+
+<p>"They were. They made the violets droop, I see."</p>
+
+<p>I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of
+sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I
+should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but
+with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not
+much versed in the sending of flowers."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly
+were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure I did."</p>
+
+<p>"There was no card. I thought it was Don&mdash;and forgot to thank
+him&mdash;luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">[Page 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it? I've liked that frock so much&mdash;and I had an idea gray and
+purple went together."</p>
+
+<p>"They do&mdash;beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in
+water, they'll be quite fresh&mdash;and so shall I. To tell the honest truth,
+so many dinners&mdash;well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad
+to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old
+garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher,
+leaning back in his chair in the old way&mdash;he had been sitting up quite
+straight. "I understand it&mdash;I like gardens myself. And your garden most
+of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in
+Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?"</p>
+
+<p>"So long? Yes, it must be."</p>
+
+<p>"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?"</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/illo4_big.jpg"><img title="illustration4.jpg" height="297" width="400" alt="illustration" src="images/illustration4.jpg"></img></a></p>
+<p class="caption">"And so we renewed the old vow"</p>
+
+<p>"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing&mdash;or inning&mdash;I
+couldn't bear<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">[Page 177]</a></span> to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home&mdash;his
+first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too."</p>
+
+<p>"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want a special welcome&mdash;from you&mdash;from my friend. When a man has only
+one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Only one! You have so many."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But
+friendship&mdash;with only one. Come, Rhexia&mdash;you understand that as well as
+I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you."</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out
+his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">[Page 179]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="center">PART III</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">[Page 181]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="III_I" id="III_I">I</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="sixteen" id="sixteen">SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S</a></h3>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">One</span> passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue
+Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes
+nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Nine&mdash;poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's
+certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of
+July. If we don't do better in August&mdash;the game's up."</p>
+
+<p>He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by
+Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace
+which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer,
+Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of
+medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which
+was set a pair of black eyes with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">[Page 182]</a></span> dark circles round them, the man had
+somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous
+energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He
+was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way
+which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good
+room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no
+kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze&mdash;if you've
+got such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we
+haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have
+plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And
+we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world.
+Shall I show you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though
+Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen.</p>
+
+<p>"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the
+experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">[Page 183]</a></span> for some
+reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the
+rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had
+brought along three keys&mdash;rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard
+to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon
+this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and
+whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in
+silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly,
+without waiting for a comment.</p>
+
+<p>This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who
+wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along
+the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom
+always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a
+possible wealthy society lady&mdash;though Heaven knew that, during the six
+weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the
+other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain
+hostelry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">[Page 184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick
+glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure&mdash;if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it
+were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring her on."</p>
+
+<p>Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above
+the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone,
+and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains
+that the house afforded. Seeing his guest&mdash;after one look around the
+spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small
+dressing-room beyond&mdash;stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide.
+The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat,
+which he had not before removed, and let the breeze&mdash;for there was
+unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been
+one of the hottest the country had known&mdash;drift refreshingly against his
+damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick
+locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">[Page 185]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back
+into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Tom mentioned it&mdash;with a little inward hesitation. The family had
+differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In
+his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost
+prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For
+a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the
+others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned
+the price firmly.</p>
+
+<p>The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little
+contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take
+'em&mdash;for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night.
+Tell you then whether I'll stay longer."</p>
+
+<p>Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory
+table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking&mdash;there
+was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this
+laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including
+breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">[Page 186]</a></span> the
+most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen
+product, of course&mdash;that was not to be expected off here. But in
+temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother
+Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called
+for with ever-increasing zest&mdash;though they seldom deigned to send any
+special word of praise to the anxious cook&mdash;Boswell's needed to ask
+forbearance of nobody.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast
+his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung
+several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and iced."</p>
+
+<p>"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have
+rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than
+ordinarily curious to know who his guest was.</p>
+
+<p>"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his
+orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a
+fellow who's used to getting what he wants."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">[Page 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the
+quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of
+the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of
+the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least
+five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any
+special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth
+guest was a man&mdash;a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who
+carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to
+read it at his solitary table.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the
+dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in
+its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and
+Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking
+off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of
+the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary
+man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the
+proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">[Page 188]</a></span> that great desideratum for such
+an official&mdash;tact.</p>
+
+<p>Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white
+apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on
+the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to
+him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small
+cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first
+as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went
+on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a
+plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the
+gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers&mdash;thin, iced
+cucumbers, with a French dressing&mdash;accompanied the hash; and with these
+he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after
+cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the
+guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well
+worth consuming.</p>
+
+<p>Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a
+large canta<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">[Page 189]</a></span>loupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed
+before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted
+this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face,
+and he drained the cup clear and asked for more.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind
+the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively
+held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly
+would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list.</p>
+
+<p>For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since
+the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not
+been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters
+which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to
+examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might
+quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which
+had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite
+indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom
+tentatively addressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">[Page 190]</a></span> the newcomer by that appellation there was no
+correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned
+toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast
+which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup&mdash;another
+of the Inn's specialties&mdash;he strolled away into the middle distance and
+was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about
+among the rocks, in idle attitudes.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing
+Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her
+special domain&mdash;that of the kitchen&mdash;but left the rest of the
+housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn
+to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food&mdash;nothing
+strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored,
+or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I
+can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word
+or two to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">[Page 191]</a></span> Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they
+look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow,
+he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office
+for his mail&mdash;gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's
+kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for
+his rooms a week in advance."</p>
+
+<p>"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years
+old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success
+of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it
+can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen
+people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all
+right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known,
+that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement
+in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring
+anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged.
+This is our<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">[Page 192]</a></span> first season. We can't expect to do much the first season.
+We're prepared for that."</p>
+
+<p>But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been
+prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn
+stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western
+railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were
+pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy
+enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to
+make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in
+the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't
+figure out.</p>
+
+<p>On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling
+gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to
+prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There
+had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies
+had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted
+just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss
+any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">[Page 193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins.</p>
+
+<p>"First-class."</p>
+
+<p>"Getting cooled off a bit up here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty well."</p>
+
+<p>"Are, you&mdash;having everything you want?"</p>
+
+<p>Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret
+with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but
+without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as
+could be asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to complain of."</p>
+
+<p>Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the
+Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech
+with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He
+couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had
+his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if
+he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an
+observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly,
+and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even
+so, his questions were like shots<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">[Page 194]</a></span> from a gun, so brief and to the point
+were they.</p>
+
+<p>"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the
+thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He
+did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious
+effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon.</p>
+
+<p>"We have a card in all the city papers."</p>
+
+<p>"Any specials? Write-ups?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could
+afford to pay for that."</p>
+
+<p>"No pulls, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"No friends among the newspaper men?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would."</p>
+
+<p>"Ever ask one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know any," repeated Tom.</p>
+
+<p>A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see
+what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance
+among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It
+was worth a good deal to him merely to have this<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">[Page 195]</a></span> outsider show a spark
+of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to
+drop the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"The third of June."</p>
+
+<p>"Own the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford
+into freshening it up."</p>
+
+<p>"Cook a permanent one?"</p>
+
+<p>The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently
+resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's
+my mother. Do you like her cooking?"</p>
+
+<p>"A-1."</p>
+
+<p>Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in
+the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had
+been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Little waitress your sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well."</p>
+
+<p>"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">[Page 196]</a></span> in the family. The only
+trouble is&mdash;&mdash;" he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Lack of patronage?"</p>
+
+<p>"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the
+words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to
+speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had
+been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy
+questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his
+mind in a jiffy.</p>
+
+<p>"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came
+in a bunch without warning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Give us the chance!"</p>
+
+<p>"Chance might happen&mdash;better be prepared. I expect to be away over
+to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out
+to sample the place. It may be a mistake&mdash;don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ask me&mdash;none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested."
+And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">[Page 197]</a></span> his cigar.
+"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the
+wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the
+stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen
+men to supper! Well&mdash;he thought they could entertain them. He would go
+and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer
+them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this
+rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the
+centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile
+away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along
+the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made
+their half-minute stops.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be
+exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with
+sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs.
+They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and
+laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which
+woke up Bos<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">[Page 198]</a></span>well's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of
+off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon
+the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself
+affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the
+apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to
+supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows,
+and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that
+their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins.</p>
+
+<p>Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had
+sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only
+artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way
+known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the
+elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles
+and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood
+accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles
+which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so
+that the kitchen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">[Page 199]</a></span> itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a
+trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the
+first time such a shortage had occurred.</p>
+
+<p>Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and
+so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the
+kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she
+lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp
+toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of
+satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them
+his first "pull."</p>
+
+<p>He did not know it&mdash;not then. He only knew that they were very cordial
+with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one
+requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might
+like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of
+them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one
+waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step.</p>
+
+<p>He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins
+returned. Tom was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">[Page 200]</a></span> wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to
+see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as
+Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step.</p>
+
+<p>"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in
+his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into
+the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by
+that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited,
+taken the trouble to&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on
+one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a
+dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men,
+including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at
+Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly
+attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at
+summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to
+obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of
+the prime con<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">[Page 201]</a></span>dition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was
+such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went
+to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the
+post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly
+called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a
+Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious.</p>
+
+<p>"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when
+Tom showed him this second free advertisement.</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host.</p>
+
+<p>"Charge your usual price?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. We didn't have anything extra&mdash;except the cheese. Tim drove ten
+miles for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide.
+He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum
+total.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever dine at the Arcadia?&mdash;or the Princess?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">[Page 202]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"They do."</p>
+
+<p>Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the
+nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the
+greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with
+some hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his,
+which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would
+see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could
+hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by&mdash;yes. But keep up the quality
+now&mdash;and then."</p>
+
+<p>That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the
+night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away,
+appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women,
+who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself&mdash;Mr.
+Haskins&mdash;smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">[Page 203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales
+were true."</p>
+
+<p>Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true,
+and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>During the following week three or four others of the men of the
+original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently
+the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some
+impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season
+more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the
+porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found&mdash;which was, of
+course, the greater attraction&mdash;a table so inviting with appetizing
+food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth
+advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of
+becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp
+mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive
+of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their
+effect, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">[Page 204]</a></span> at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that
+he was more than making expenses.</p>
+
+<p>"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been
+from one to three big autos here every day this week."</p>
+
+<p>One of Perkins's short laughs answered this&mdash;Tom never could tell just
+what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out.</p>
+
+<p>"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar&mdash;an unusual
+sign of interest with him&mdash;"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it.
+Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better."</p>
+
+<p>"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit
+disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p>He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent
+guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins
+had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first
+he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man
+eager to be at something from which he was restrained.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">[Page 205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins
+got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the
+porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to
+have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town&mdash;Mercury Club&mdash;want to get up an
+auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant
+Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a
+chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to
+make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want
+it. Make a big thing of it&mdash;lanterns, bonfires, fireworks,
+orchestra&mdash;regular blow-out."</p>
+
+<p>Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;" he stammered. "How could
+we&mdash;how could we&mdash;afford&mdash;&mdash;What&mdash;&mdash;? How&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth
+end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of
+experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had
+a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">[Page 206]</a></span> edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this
+thing through for you, if you cared to trust me."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;the money?" urged Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Willing to stand for that&mdash;pay me back, if you make enough.
+Otherwise&mdash;my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the
+fireworks&mdash;that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy.
+Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music&mdash;friend of mine can.
+Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?"</p>
+
+<p>"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed
+with excitement. "Say, you're&mdash;you're awfully kind. I don't know
+why&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked
+back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom
+caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile
+broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white
+but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to
+the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the
+lamest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">[Page 207]</a></span> duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me&mdash;that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before
+he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no
+gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do.
+He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than
+wanting to help us."</p>
+
+<p>With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already
+seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to
+tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he
+had just had with Perkins.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch&mdash;just one
+minute&mdash;and look."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, child, I can't. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not where the folks are&mdash;just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me
+to take you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't leave&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come&mdash;quick. The first autos are
+coming&mdash;you can see 'em miles off."</p>
+
+<p>With one glance about the kitchen, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">[Page 208]</a></span> two extra helpers were busy
+with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a
+supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than
+anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up
+the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the
+balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!"
+swept an arm about the entire horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing,
+transfixed.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street
+with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns,
+hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn
+was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms
+dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be
+told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with
+them from end to end.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement.
+"There must be a thousand of those things. How on <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">[Page 209]</a></span>earth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the
+surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires
+flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack
+Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to
+keep up the fires&mdash;and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!&mdash;now you can see
+the parade beginning to show!"</p>
+
+<p>Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from
+the city, one could discern a trail of light&mdash;thrown by many
+searchlights&mdash;and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs.
+Boswell instantly to action again.</p>
+
+<p>"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the
+balcony.</p>
+
+<p>"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but
+uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom"
+depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to
+Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good&mdash;the thought sent her down
+the back stairs at a speed reck<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">[Page 210]</a></span>less for one of her years. But she
+reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told.</p>
+
+<p>The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open
+cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into
+their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from
+the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like
+an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in
+together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of
+people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and
+floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children,
+dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with
+interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and
+evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its
+loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices.</p>
+
+<p>In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room,
+lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was
+filled. Reservations had been made by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">[Page 211]</a></span> mail and telephone for the past
+three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could
+never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his
+elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He
+was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake
+had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first
+or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke
+and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice.</p>
+
+<p>As for Perkins&mdash;but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the
+first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough&mdash;in fact, he had
+been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working
+like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving
+himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective
+decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and
+colour&mdash;even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every
+trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque
+quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">[Page 212]</a></span>
+anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long
+enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest&mdash;and
+friend&mdash;for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly
+didn't look quite strong&mdash;could he have overdone and be ill, alone in
+his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned
+the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder&mdash;and
+smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not sick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. Things going O. K.?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd&mdash;such a jolly crowd! But&mdash;why don't you come
+down?"</p>
+
+<p>"To help make things go?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these
+people, and if you don't&mdash;it's worth something just to look at 'em. I
+didn't know ladies dressed like that&mdash;under those things they wear in
+the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">[Page 213]</a></span> autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here&mdash;and his
+wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"So?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been
+sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to
+the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Take mine."</p>
+
+<p>Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours&mdash;after all you've done&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night.
+Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up."</p>
+
+<p>"But where&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort
+of goes to my head."</p>
+
+<p>"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this
+room's in shape for the lady&mdash;girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday.
+My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">[Page 214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma.
+But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it.</p>
+
+<p>The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded.
+They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they
+swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking
+up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of
+its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl
+planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking
+about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's
+out of the heat.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to
+one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things
+as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular
+anywhere around. Deserves it, too."</p>
+
+<p>"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so
+prompt with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">[Page 215]</a></span> flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a
+crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that
+made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten&mdash;and the service is
+first-class."</p>
+
+<p>It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began
+to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way.
+They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West
+Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of
+those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained.</p>
+
+<p>The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white
+welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling
+downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the
+women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch
+steps.</p>
+
+<p>Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then
+advanced with outstretched hand, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin
+was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">[Page 216]</a></span> to have got you
+on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him&mdash;he's just
+outside. He's with our party."</p>
+
+<p>With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the
+Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big
+figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down.</p>
+
+<p>Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had
+called the man "Parker." What&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and
+grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing
+here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send
+you off for an absolute rest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till
+the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night,
+have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing."</p>
+
+<p>"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled
+on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">[Page 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs.
+Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose
+from his work."</p>
+
+<p>The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the
+latter looked at him with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the
+young man, interestedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, he did. But who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you know who he was? That's so&mdash;you've called him Perkins all
+along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put
+two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came
+from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in
+the country. Nobody like him&mdash;he'd make the deadest hotel in the
+loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you
+can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me
+to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot
+of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown.
+Well, well, you're mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">[Page 218]</a></span> lucky if you've got him backing you. No other
+man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night&mdash;a place
+they'd never heard of."</p>
+
+<p>So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot
+away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his
+ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good,
+but don't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak.</p>
+
+<p>Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain.
+How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour?</p>
+
+<p>"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light
+of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where
+the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom
+appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns.</p>
+
+<p>"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Per&mdash;Parker&mdash;&mdash;" began Tom, and stopped.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">[Page 219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young
+innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't
+have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to
+me's like a game to a gambler&mdash;as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd
+have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another.
+Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself
+away&mdash;but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty
+well&mdash;eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No&mdash;no thanks, I
+said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing.
+It's saved my life!"</p>
+
+<p>Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher
+Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly
+a wondrous friendly one.</p>
+
+<p><i>And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles
+from town.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">[Page 220]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="III_II" id="III_II">II</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="honour" id="honour">HONOUR AND THE GIRL</a></h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">He</span> lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the
+fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his
+lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to
+certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter,
+scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy
+door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid <i>decrescendo</i> down the
+street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last
+fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the
+occupant of the big chair to say something like this:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jerry&mdash;sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad
+this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night&mdash;Christmas Eve,
+too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of coun<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">[Page 221]</a></span>try
+life in winter? You clever boy&mdash;who but you could make so much out of so
+little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go,
+since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought
+to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be
+'babied.' Well&mdash;good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know
+the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure."</p>
+
+<p>That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now&mdash;a
+year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home
+from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was
+succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations&mdash;except those
+of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his
+school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body,
+his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he
+had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he
+took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">[Page 222]</a></span> or two&mdash;slowly;
+then another&mdash;more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all.
+He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into
+the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep.</p>
+
+<p>A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded
+before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him.
+An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept
+across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among
+his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young
+face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his.</p>
+
+<p>"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "<i>You?</i> Why, Nan!"</p>
+
+<p>He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight
+strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength.
+She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to
+go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I
+knew I could argue with them<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">[Page 223]</a></span> better when I got this gown on. I think I
+have rather a regal air in it, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and
+shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin
+silken garment with which she had covered them.</p>
+
+<p>"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about
+anything else until you know."</p>
+
+<p>She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great
+branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries
+gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up
+and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently
+surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to
+look at in the fire-glow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">[Page 224]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and
+told me you thought you ought."</p>
+
+<p>She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I
+wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all
+array themselves before I refused to go."</p>
+
+<p>He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an
+invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him&mdash;at least
+not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for
+all it was worth."</p>
+
+<p>"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were
+capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all
+the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester
+were spent from pity?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some
+pleasant times, haven't we?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned from him without speaking, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">[Page 225]</a></span> clasping her hands loosely
+in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up
+and took a fresh log from the basket.</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on
+gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back
+with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid
+in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't
+stir to save you no matter what happened."</p>
+
+<p>She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I
+stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your
+help."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes told her that he would give it if he could.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked,
+bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his
+breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">[Page 226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Somehow I can talk better," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds
+about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee.</p>
+
+<p>"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead
+artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do
+some special work in illustrating?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly,
+and I shall not have any of the&mdash;trials&mdash;so many young women workers
+have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it
+shall. But, Jerry&mdash;I want something. You know you have always known me,
+because I was Hester's friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of
+fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was
+unmistakable.</p>
+
+<p>"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had."</p>
+
+<p>"Not what I mean by that word." She sat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">[Page 227]</a></span> looking into the fire for some
+little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded
+by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward,
+while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour:</p>
+
+<p>"I want to feel I have a friend&mdash;one friend&mdash;a real one, whom I leave
+behind me here&mdash;who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can
+count on&mdash;differently from the way I count on other friends."</p>
+
+<p>He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look
+as she made her frank statement.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know
+at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she
+added quickly.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are
+offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much?
+Friendship&mdash;such friendship&mdash;means more to me now than it ever did
+before."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I
+can ever have, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">[Page 228]</a></span> it must take the place of all I once&mdash;hoped for."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Since you are to be my friend now&mdash;my special friend&mdash;I can tell you
+what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I
+have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"&mdash;he
+smiled grimly&mdash;"you should know what you are accepting."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"He said I might be better&mdash;much better&mdash;but I could never hope to
+be&mdash;my old self again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and
+reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender
+pressure.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands
+closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew
+brilliant. "If it does&mdash;it is going to be something a man might give up
+a good deal for."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disap<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">[Page 229]</a></span>pointment so?" she breathed.
+"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you
+were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!&mdash;Jerry, I'm not
+worthy to be your friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how
+I've wanted to ask it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away
+for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might
+presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship.
+Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the
+most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere.</p>
+
+<p>"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give
+you the strong arm a well man could."</p>
+
+<p>"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned
+yourself," she said&mdash;and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes
+of hers&mdash;"you will have given me something worth while."</p>
+
+<p>Presently they were talking of her journey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">[Page 230]</a></span> to be begun on the morrow;
+of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable
+success; of his work&mdash;the part which he could do and would continue to
+do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and
+each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness,
+something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial.</p>
+
+<p>"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion
+of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly
+rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful
+things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was
+thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real
+friend.' But all the girls were&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now."</p>
+
+<p>"But your friendship is worth more now than then."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"It is&mdash;because <i>you</i> are more than you were then."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">[Page 231]</a></span> He did not say it bitterly, but
+he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a
+remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done
+a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the
+refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too
+strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the
+eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile
+again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense
+before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I
+can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate
+that; but I'm very grateful just the same."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her
+lap&mdash;and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">[Page 232]</a></span>
+profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt
+into his memory afterward&mdash;"to have you remember this Christmas Eve&mdash;as
+I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it
+rather faintly.</p>
+
+<p>He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Early&mdash;at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it
+is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I
+must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas
+Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to
+spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton&mdash;like the foolish girl that I
+am."</p>
+
+<p>She rose and stood before him.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind slipping off that&mdash;domino?" he requested. "I'd like to
+see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had
+gone to the Van Antwerps'."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">[Page 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the
+firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow.
+He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she
+must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out
+both hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he
+said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to
+bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but&mdash;it's Christmas Eve, you
+know&mdash;and&mdash;you'll give me one more thing to remember&mdash;won't you, Nan?"</p>
+
+<p>She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his
+forehead, but he caught her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the proper degree for friendship&mdash;and you feel that more would
+be too much?"</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing
+beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath
+of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of
+unsuspected reserves of strength.</p>
+
+<p>She turned away then in a pretty confusion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">[Page 234]</a></span> said, "Good-night," and
+went slowly toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me&mdash;you will write often?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes; every&mdash;month."</p>
+
+<p>"Month? Won't you write every mail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jerry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Every week, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will, whether you do or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Your ideas of friendship&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are they too exacting?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her
+hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a
+frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and
+see her, but she defeated this.</p>
+
+<p>"Please come here," he begged.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally.</p>
+
+<p>"Please&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and
+you&mdash;won't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Won't&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>She crept up close behind his chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">[Page 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;<i>say it</i>," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here.
+Say&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on
+each side of his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Please say it," she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me
+almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?"</p>
+
+<p>She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered,
+"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan&mdash;are you insane? What if I say it&mdash;then
+how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now&mdash;and
+you&mdash;can't mean it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Say it!</i>" came the breath in his ear again.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to
+speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most
+rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his
+shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever
+knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">[Page 236]</a></span> while you go away
+for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and
+write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile&mdash;keep your heart free
+for&mdash;the man will surely come to claim it some day&mdash;a man who will be
+worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and&mdash;body. I shall be happy in
+your&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle
+insistence upon his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough&mdash;please. I understand.
+That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you
+ought to say, of course. But&mdash;it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For
+it's not the thing&mdash;I'm waiting for you to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Nan&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a
+suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Nan&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to
+be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite
+sure that I shall sleep if you say it"&mdash;her voice dropped to a whisper
+again&mdash;"but I'm sure I shall not if&mdash;you&mdash;don't."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">[Page 237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My dear girl&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's hardly warm enough, is it&mdash;under the circumstances&mdash;when you
+won't see me for a year? Jerry&mdash;a whole year&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nan&mdash;for the love of Heaven come around here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so much for the love of Heaven as&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;for the love of you&mdash;you&mdash;<i>you!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>She came at last&mdash;and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them
+after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so
+strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he
+began to speak&mdash;in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little
+brown curl touching his lips, it listened.</p>
+
+<p>"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it
+back. But you know&mdash;you must know, nothing can come of it."</p>
+
+<p>He heard her murmur, "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know why."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't."</p>
+
+<p>He drew a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want me?" she asked&mdash;into his shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">[Page 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Want you!"</p>
+
+<p>"You've everything to offer me."</p>
+
+<p>"Nan&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything I want. Jerry"&mdash;she lifted her head and looked for an
+instant into his eyes&mdash;"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it."</p>
+
+<p>"A wreck of a life&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You&mdash;Jerrold
+Fullerton&mdash;whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in
+the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with&mdash;with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;his soul&mdash;all there is of him&mdash;his great personality&mdash;himself. And
+that's so much more than I can give in return&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nan, darling&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you
+come back, if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If I'm still of the same mind&mdash;&mdash;Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a
+wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">[Page 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;if I'm no worse&mdash;if I'm a little better&mdash;&mdash;This is great medicine,
+Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not go at all unless&mdash;unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;unless I am bound tight&mdash;tight&mdash;to you. I&mdash;I shouldn't feel sure of
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath.
+"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If she will make it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Look at me, Nan."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't&mdash;long," she complained. "Somehow you&mdash;you&mdash;blind me."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed softly. "I realize that&mdash;you are blind&mdash;blind. But I can't
+open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try."</p>
+
+<p>"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I
+must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry&mdash;let me go, dear&mdash;&mdash;Yes, yes&mdash;you
+must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme
+difficulty. "But I <i>can</i> go now. I couldn't when I said <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">[Page 240]</a></span>good-night
+before&mdash;&mdash;Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry&mdash;&mdash;Merry
+Christmas, Jerry!"</p>
+
+<p>Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the
+back of his chair and whisper in his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Jerry&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I really&mdash;engaged&mdash;to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Darling&mdash;bless you&mdash;I'm afraid you are."</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nan&mdash;I'm the happiest cripple on earth."</p>
+
+<p>So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As
+for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire
+till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it
+was the beginning of his cure.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">[Page 241]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="III_III" id="III_III">III</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="their" id="their">THEIR WORD OF HONOUR</a></h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> president of the Great B&mdash;&mdash; railway system laid down the letter he
+had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an
+expression of annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a
+thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter
+without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"&mdash;he
+looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by&mdash;"I hope you
+are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much
+of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm
+not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own
+importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir&mdash;not
+desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah
+Woodbridge test to your boys?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">[Page 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No,
+I haven't, father," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the
+boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it
+was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the
+day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"</p>
+
+<p>"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his
+chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a
+stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel
+pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius&mdash;&mdash;" He shook his head doubtfully
+and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and
+whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of
+inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their
+work without<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">[Page 243]</a></span> further words. They were in the habit of dispatching
+important business with the smallest possible waste of breath.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found
+himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once,
+a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in
+every line of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of
+a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this
+envelope"&mdash;he held out a large and bulky packet&mdash;"and without saying
+anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you
+your word of honour that you will do so."</p>
+
+<p>The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly
+alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in
+the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy.
+Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour,
+but he responded firmly:</p>
+
+<p>"I will, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"On your honour?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">[Page 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then
+start at once."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of
+dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room,
+opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled
+with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a
+typewritten paper which read as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open
+Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with
+Harold is off. Well, here goes!"</p>
+
+<p>On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took
+a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was
+at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">[Page 245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk
+Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 <span class="smcap">a. m.</span> Ask for letter
+addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open
+Env. No. 2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated.
+"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away
+uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my
+way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though.
+He usually knows just about why he does things."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall
+youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop
+in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of
+the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not,
+however, quicken his pace.</p>
+
+<p>"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an
+errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have
+not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this
+envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to
+yourself. May I have from you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">[Page 246]</a></span> your word of honour that I can trust you
+to follow the orders to the smallest detail?"</p>
+
+<p>Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the
+envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision:</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word
+of honour that you will fulfil them."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted
+messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine
+and represent my wishes."</p>
+
+<p>"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an
+imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's
+voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;your word of honour?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">[Page 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your
+instructions."</p>
+
+<p>And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that
+memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him
+to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there
+within three quarters of an hour.</p>
+
+<p>Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After
+getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he
+had read:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue,
+and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight
+streets and open Env. No. 3.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W. Jr.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting
+interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but
+found, to his amazement, only the singular direction:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there
+go to <i>Sentinel</i> Office and secure third edition of yesterday's
+paper. Open Env. No. 4.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W. Jr.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">[Page 248]</a></span>
+"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to
+Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train,
+thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of
+certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be
+thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He
+looked at the packet of unopened envelopes.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what
+this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this
+before. If it's a joke"&mdash;his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"&mdash;"I
+might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a
+fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'&mdash;that's
+putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm
+getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."</p>
+
+<p>It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city
+and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of
+order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a
+very satisfactory one:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">[Page 249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Go to Caf&eacute; Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in
+left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr.
+Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W. Jr.</p>
+
+<p>The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in
+the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and
+drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and
+the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's
+card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Caf&eacute; Reynard was a
+place famous the country over for its cookery.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll have&mdash;" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a
+laugh&mdash;"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me
+the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and
+broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his
+face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why&mdash;why&mdash;this
+can't be&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">[Page 250]</a></span> with black, judging by the
+dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Leave Caf&eacute; immediately, without stopping for luncheon,
+remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to
+box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for
+matin&eacute;e&mdash;"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read
+Env. No. 9.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W. Jr.</p>
+
+<p>The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression
+resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation
+that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward
+the Metropolitan Theatre.</p>
+
+<p>"Who wants to see a matin&eacute;e on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose
+I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs.
+Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in
+wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's
+doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as
+quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, when at the end of the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">[Page 251]</a></span> act of a pretty play by a
+well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles
+to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the
+game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense.</p>
+
+<p>All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and
+suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it
+was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and
+commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which
+forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see
+no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He
+was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he
+reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This
+read:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Reach home at 6:20 <span class="smcap">p. m.</span> Before entering house
+read No.18.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his
+home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18&mdash;and the words fairly swam<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">[Page 252]</a></span> before
+his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken.</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets,
+reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his
+pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour,"
+as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to
+their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have
+rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one
+long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned
+and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out
+toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights.</p>
+
+<p>As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from
+behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge,
+Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a
+satisfied way.</p>
+
+<p>"He's come&mdash;and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the
+minute!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">[Page 253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening
+paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth
+slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he
+thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared
+its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a
+purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and
+Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route,
+and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his
+stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it
+would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban
+station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done
+enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger.</p>
+
+<p>Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had
+been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "<i>A chain is no
+stronger than its weakest link.</i>" Cyrus jumped off the car before it
+fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">[Page 254]</a></span> stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and
+Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour.</p>
+
+<p>Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even
+taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back,
+beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city
+messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope.</p>
+
+<p>"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd
+been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got
+seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad
+boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me."</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that
+served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident
+showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of
+some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His
+father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose
+indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his
+memory to be sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">[Page 255]</a></span> that no detail of the singular service required of
+him had been slighted.</p>
+
+<p>As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident
+that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No.
+20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering
+the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a
+sigh broke open the final seal:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B&mdash;&mdash; Railroad,
+reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of
+station, by telegraph office.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a
+machine&mdash;a hollow one&mdash;which could keep on going indefinitely.</p>
+
+<p>"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about
+from one place to another&mdash;never knowing where it's due next&mdash;always
+waiting outside&mdash;never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this
+schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this
+morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">[Page 256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock
+were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated
+spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one
+of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were
+officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He
+brought the boy a card which ran thus:</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot">Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card
+received at restaurant, the matin&eacute;e coupon, yesterday
+evening's <i>Sentinel</i>, and the envelope received at
+Kingston Heights.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;C. W., Jr.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of
+thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them,
+but was back in three minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast.
+Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's
+private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a
+tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico.
+Could it be possible&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">[Page 257]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius
+Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have
+stood the test&mdash;the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir&mdash;and you may be proud
+of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us
+through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's
+hardship?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his
+grandfather's smile, intensified.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so&mdash;now, sir," he said. Both
+gentlemen laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hungry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, just a little, grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to
+wait. I'm afraid&mdash;I'm very much afraid"&mdash;the old gentleman turned to
+gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station&mdash;"that another
+boy's word of honour isn't&mdash;&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">[Page 258]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting
+orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a
+half&mdash;&mdash;one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the
+second, sir. Ah&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into
+Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of
+excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As
+the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared
+in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely
+his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car.</p>
+
+<p>Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands
+with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the
+board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him
+also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but
+his voice was grave with feeling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">[Page 259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose
+word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge
+standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have
+resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points
+would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not
+fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on
+those lines. I congratulate you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius.
+"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your
+legs off all over town?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big
+towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of
+an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground
+floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a
+thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my
+dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too&mdash;one with Helena Fowler
+at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">[Page 260]</a></span> stick it out.
+Casabianca was nothing to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no
+time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came
+for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the
+elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his
+customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">[Page 261]</a></span></p>
+<h2 class="center"><a name="III_IV" id="III_IV">IV</a></h2>
+
+<h3 class="center"><a name="half" id="half">HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD</a></h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on
+account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the
+last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at
+last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be
+allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For
+Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he
+was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he
+had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many
+inadequate introductions.</p>
+
+<p>"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he
+had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that
+morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty
+hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">[Page 262]</a></span> time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to
+the men in blue&mdash;and gray&mdash;and brown, for we have all sorts here, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he
+was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David
+thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been
+in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's
+company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really
+been in very few engagements.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And
+I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only,
+you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my
+playing is out there."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward,
+when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He
+peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was
+out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the
+square<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">[Page 263]</a></span> might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and
+May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its
+only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of
+the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of
+the clash and shock of arms.</p>
+
+<p>The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was
+being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men.
+From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Flash'd all their sabres bare,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Flash'd as they turned in air</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sabring th' gunners there,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Charging an army, while</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">All th' world wonder'd:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Right through th' line they broke;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cossack an' Russian</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Reeled from th' sabre-stroke</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Scatter'd an' shunder'd.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then they rode back, but not&mdash;&mdash;"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and
+wipe his white<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">[Page 264]</a></span> little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely
+real to him.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Not&mdash;the six hundred</i>," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat,
+gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again.</p>
+
+<p>"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of
+'em&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What
+is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade?</p>
+
+<p>It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's
+four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite
+boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old&mdash;he
+was ten now&mdash;had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag.
+All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at
+the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of
+great pride to David every year&mdash;that silken flag.</p>
+
+<p>David's four uncles were all soldiers&mdash;in a way. There was Uncle
+Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">[Page 265]</a></span>
+and Colonel Thorndyke he was&mdash;against his will&mdash;always called still.
+Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular
+army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service
+in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong
+after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West
+Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for
+Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in
+either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the
+fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more
+like a soldier than he did now.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger
+Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle.
+She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to
+settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all
+her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom
+to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore
+that fact.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">[Page 266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of
+Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been
+hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted
+that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the
+operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great
+English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days.
+He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he
+thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that&mdash;it's my chance."</p>
+
+<p>She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her
+youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of
+hospital, was first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"When does he come?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't
+sure whether&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major
+mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">[Page 267]</a></span>
+Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service.</p>
+
+<p>"You all think it's best to have it done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in
+that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at
+anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is
+international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The
+cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command&mdash;he was an
+excellent cadet lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel
+Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most
+relied. He nodded at her.</p>
+
+<p>"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as
+good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to
+his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and
+figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a
+cripple.</p>
+
+<p>So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see
+David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">[Page 268]</a></span> thought wise,
+as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose
+another question: Who should tell David?</p>
+
+<p>"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of
+the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of
+you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always
+playing he's a soldier, and if&mdash;if one of you could put it to him&mdash;in a
+sort of military way&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked
+at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the
+task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug
+which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke.</p>
+
+<p>"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his
+usual decision of manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">[Page 269]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as
+any of the others, they would not let him off.</p>
+
+<p>"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added:</p>
+
+<p>"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he
+won't mind what you tell him."</p>
+
+<p>It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay
+awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It
+seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he
+could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging
+to see.</p>
+
+<p>Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since
+the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his
+first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had
+had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after
+the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be
+Memorial Day. Meanwhile&mdash;there was David.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">[Page 270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell
+him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English
+surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination,
+ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just
+what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him&mdash;you'll
+know how."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were
+heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with
+these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment
+before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions
+from headquarters.</p>
+
+<p>When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure
+awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The
+deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the
+corporal said to the major:</p>
+
+<p>"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">[Page 271]</a></span> enemy is encamped on the
+opposite shore, and is preparing to attack."</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the
+study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to
+enter.</p>
+
+<p>Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw
+there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes
+and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur
+says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and
+I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm
+going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is
+Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen
+Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal
+has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my
+uniform, too&mdash;may I?"</p>
+
+<p>The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and
+significantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">[Page 272]</a></span> from the proud address of the officer to the humble
+request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs.
+Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she
+said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it
+ready."</p>
+
+<p>"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but
+if I do, Uncle Ar&mdash;the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I
+must take it as it comes."</p>
+
+<p>Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing
+general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner
+made an excellent general, David thought.</p>
+
+<p>They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with
+the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack
+upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to
+David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his
+corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done.</p>
+
+<p>There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said
+over to himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">[Page 273]</a></span> great many times on the way to the hospital the
+opening lines:</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Half a league, half a league,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Half a league onward.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All in th' valley of Death</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rode th' six hundred...."</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he
+would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much
+better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch,
+and waved the other at his staff&mdash;and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on
+behind.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Forward, th' Light Brigade!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Charge for th' guns!' he said...."</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of
+Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on.</p>
+
+<p>"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered,
+and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in
+his throat.</p>
+
+<p>It may have been a common thing for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">[Page 274]</a></span> hospital nurses and doctors to
+see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other
+military figures&mdash;the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were
+surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red
+Cross badge on her sleeve&mdash;hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This
+badge David regarded with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned.
+And after that there was a special bond between them.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have
+Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of
+hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours'
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here
+all night."</p>
+
+<p>The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss
+him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from
+his mother, the major thought it best<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">[Page 275]</a></span> not to mind. Indeed, it was very
+comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even
+though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning things happened rather rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal,
+with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said,
+although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no
+food to hearten one.</p>
+
+<p>A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and
+sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his
+patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand
+in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to
+stand by to the last ditch.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Forward, th' Light Brigade!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was 'ere a man dismay'd?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not though the soldier knew</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Some 'un had blunder'd...."</span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">[Page 276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out
+into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Theirs not to make reply&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Theirs&mdash;not to&mdash;reason&mdash;why&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Theirs&mdash;but&mdash;to&mdash;do&mdash;an'&mdash;die&mdash;&mdash;"</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met
+the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to
+her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold.</p>
+
+<p>"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the
+waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were
+marching up and down during the period of suspense.</p>
+
+<p>"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart.
+"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering,
+'Theirs not to make reply&mdash;&mdash;'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray
+sleeve across his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's
+boy, all right."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">[Page 277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the
+good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and
+was rallying bravely.</p>
+
+<p>"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end
+successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur.
+"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now,
+if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the
+pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of
+danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short
+of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course,
+in the little chap's delicate condition. But&mdash;we've all his own staunch
+courage on our side&mdash;and somehow, well&mdash;Stuart, I've got to preach
+to-morrow. And next week&mdash;that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm
+going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between
+now and then."</p>
+
+<p>That Memorial Day address! How was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">[Page 278]</a></span> distraught young clergyman to
+think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the
+bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life?</p>
+
+<p>It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the
+fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak
+confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur
+Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should
+never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this
+is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the
+'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester
+and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be
+there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little
+bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can
+salute, you know, even if they can't see you."</p>
+
+<p>"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">[Page 279]</a></span> I'm going to open my mouth,"
+he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I
+never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's
+mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I
+know."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Arthur&mdash;but&mdash;but&mdash;I wasn't plucky&mdash;all the time. Sometimes&mdash;it
+hurt so I&mdash;had to cry."</p>
+
+<p>The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't
+count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band."</p>
+
+<p>Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached,
+mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother
+and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he
+could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then
+stopped; the drums beat.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David,
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst
+with a crash into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">[Page 280]</a></span> the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were;
+David could see them.</p>
+
+<p>The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon
+the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room;
+but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by
+Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were
+wonderful:</p>
+
+<p><i>"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah&mdash;comrade!"</i></p>
+
+<p>David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would
+never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the &mdash;&mdash;th
+New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he
+murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men
+who had stood outside his window and cheered:</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"When can their glory fade?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O th' wild charge they made!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">All th' world wonder'd.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honour th' charge they made!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Honour th' Light Brigade,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Noble six hundred!"</span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">[Page 281]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in
+their uniforms&mdash;all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman,
+and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!"
+cried Uncle Stephen proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart.</p>
+
+<p>"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league
+onward,' if the rest of us have stood still."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it
+much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform."</p>
+
+<h3 class="center"><br />THE END</h3>
+
+
+<p class="smaller">Back to <a href="#contents">Contents</a></p>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h2 class="center"><a name="A_COURT_OF_INQUIRY" id="A_COURT_OF_INQUIRY"></a>A COURT OF INQUIRY</h2>
+
+<h3 class="center">BY GRACE S. RICHMOND.</h3>
+
+
+<p>This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the
+effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher."
+Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica&mdash;and their several
+entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and
+the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities
+against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups
+through the eyes of the one who tells the tale&mdash;and very shrewd and
+delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much
+real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written
+anything more fresh and human and entertaining.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h4 class="center">ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR:</h4>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Red Pepper Burns.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Mrs. Red Pepper.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">The Indifference of Juliet.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Round the Corner in Gay Street.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">With Juliet in England.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">Strawberry Acres.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">The Second Violin.</span><br /></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h3 class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY</h3>
+
+<h4 class="center">Publishers,&mdash;New York</h4>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+<h5 class="center">Transcriber's notes:</h5>
+<p class="center">"Where-ever" on page 78 has
+been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent<br /> with
+the spelling in the rest of the text.</p>
+<p class="center">"everbody" on page 96 has been change to "everybody".</p>
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Court of Inquiry
+
+Author: Grace S. Richmond
+
+Release Date: June 2, 2006 [EBook #18489]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A COURT OF INQUIRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jacqueline Jeremy, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'We four,' declared the Skeptic, 'constitute a private
+Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends'"]
+
+
+
+
+A COURT
+OF INQUIRY
+
+By GRACE S. RICHMOND
+
+Author of "Red Pepper Burns," "Mrs. Red Pepper,"
+"Second Violin," Etc.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
+
+114-120 East Twenty-third Street--New York
+
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.
+
+
+
+
+_Copyright_, 1909, 1916, _by_
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+
+_All rights reserved, including that of
+translation into foreign languages,
+including the Scandinavian_
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+COPYRIGHT, 1908, 1909, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+C. R. P. AND M. B. P.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+PART I
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+  I. Althea                               3
+ II. Camellia                            16
+III. Dahlia                              31
+ IV. Rhodora                             44
+  V. Azalea                              58
+ VI. Hepatica                            72
+
+
+PART II
+
+  I. Dahlia and the Professor            87
+ II. Camellia and the Judge             102
+III. Azalea and the Cashier             117
+ IV. Althea and the Promoter            131
+  V. Rhodora and the Preacher           146
+ VI. Wistaria--and the Philosopher      162
+
+
+PART III
+
+  I. Sixteen Miles to Boswell's         181
+ II. Honour and the Girl                220
+III. Their Word of Honour               241
+ IV. "Half a League Onward"             261
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+
+
+A Court of Inquiry
+and Other Tales
+
+I
+
+ALTHEA
+
+      Nothing impaired
+    but all disordered.
+    --_Midsummer Night's Dream._
+
+
+There are four guest-rooms in my house. It is not a large house, and how
+there came to be so many rooms to spare for the entertaining of friends
+is not a story to be told here. It is only a few years since they were
+all full--and not with guests. But they are nearly always full now. And
+when I assign each room it is after taking thought.
+
+There are two men's rooms and two for women. The men's rooms have
+belonged to men, and therefore they suit other men, who drop into them
+and use their belongings, and tell me they were never more comfortable.
+The third room is for one after another of the girls and women who
+visit me. The fourth room----
+
+"Is anybody really good enough to sleep in this place?"
+
+It was the Skeptic, looking over my shoulder. He had chanced to be
+passing, saw me standing in the doorway in an attitude of adoration,
+and glanced in over my head. He had continued to look from sheer
+astonishment.
+
+"I should expect to have to take off my shoes, and put on a white
+cassock over my tennis flannels before I could enter here," he observed.
+
+"You would not be allowed to enter, even in that inappropriate costume,"
+I replied. "I keep this room only for the very nicest of my girl
+friends. The trouble is----"
+
+"The trouble is--you're full up with our bunch, and have got to put Miss
+Althea here, whether she turns out to be the sort or not."
+
+I had not expected the Skeptic to be so shrewd--shrewd though he often
+is. Being also skeptical, his skepticism sometimes overcolours his
+imagination.
+
+"Suppose she should leave her slippers kicking around over those
+white rugs, drop her kimono in the middle of that pond-lily bed,
+and--er--attach a mound of chewing-gum to the corner of the mirror,"
+he propounded.
+
+"I should send her home."
+
+"No--you could do better than that. Make her change rooms with the
+Philosopher. He wouldn't leave a speck the size of a molecule on all
+that whiteness."
+
+"I don't believe he would," I agreed. As the Skeptic went laughing away
+downstairs I turned again into the room, in order that I might tie back
+the little inner muslin curtains, to let the green branches outside show
+between.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Althea arrived at five. The Skeptic, in tennis flannels, was lounging on
+the porch as she came up the steps, and scanned her critically over the
+racquet he still held, after a brisk set-to with the Gay Lady, who is
+one of my other guests. (We call her the Gay Lady because of her
+flower-bright face, her trick of smiling when other people frown, and
+because of a certain soft sparkle and glow about her whole personality,
+as indescribable as it is captivating). The Gay Lady had gone indoors to
+dress for the evening, and the Philosopher had not returned from the
+long daily tramp by which he keeps himself in trim. The Lad was on the
+porch mending some fishing-tackle--my Lad, with the clear young eyes
+which see things.
+
+Althea gave the Skeptic a glance, the Lad a smile, and me a hearty
+embrace. I had never seen her before, and her visit had been brought
+about by a request from her mother, an old friend, who was anxious to
+have her daughter spend a pleasant vacation in the absence of most of
+the girl's family.
+
+It was impossible not to like my new guest at once. She was a healthy,
+hearty, blooming sort of girl, good to look at, pleasant company to have
+about, and, as I soon learned, sweet-tempered to a degree which it
+seemed nothing could upset. She followed me upstairs, talking brightly
+all the way, and made her entrance into the white room as a pink
+hollyhock might drop unconcernedly into a pan of milk.
+
+"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
+and umbrella upon the bed.
+
+The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes
+before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a
+somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
+hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
+into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
+girls are made at home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and
+dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
+rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
+to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a
+touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's
+needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters
+looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty
+reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an
+embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
+work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
+handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
+should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic. The
+closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on
+padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small,
+smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was
+clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the
+place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best
+down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful
+custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know
+when she did it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no
+electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug
+whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which
+had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered
+a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out
+of my path.
+
+It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily
+stands on a corner of the dressing-table. My groping hand encountered
+all sorts of unfamiliar objects in its quest, and it was not without
+a premonition of what I was about to see that I finally lit the lamp
+and looked around me.
+
+Well--of course she had unpacked hurriedly, as hurriedly dressed for
+dinner, and she had been detained downstairs ever since. I should not
+judge in haste. Doubtless in the morning she would put things to rights.
+I removed a trunk-tray from the bed, hung up several frocks in the
+closet, cleared away the rest of the belongings from the counterpane,
+and arranged Althea's bed for the night. I did the rest of my work
+quickly, and returned to lower the light.
+
+It couldn't be--really, no--it couldn't be! There must be some other way
+of accounting for those scratches on the hitherto spotless white wall,
+now marred by five long, brown marks, where a match had been drawn again
+and again before it struck into light!
+
+It _couldn't_ have been Althea. Yet--those marks were never there
+before. It was full daylight when my guest had arrived; she could have
+had no need for artificial light. Wait--there lay a long, black object
+on the white cover of the dressing-table--a curling iron!
+
+In the hall I ran into the Skeptic.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he cried under his breath. "I came up for her
+scarf. She said it was just inside her door, on her trunk. May I go in?"
+
+"I'll get it for you," said I, and turned inside. The Skeptic stood
+outside the door, looking into the dimness. I could not find the scarf.
+I would not turn up the light. I searched and searched vainly.
+
+"Let me give you something to see by," said the Skeptic, and before I
+could prevent him he had bolted into the room and turned up the lamp.
+"Here it is," said he, and caught up some article of apparel from the
+dressing-table. "Oh, no--this must be--a sash," said he, and dropped it.
+He stood looking about him.
+
+"Go away," said I sternly. "I'll find it."
+
+"I don't think you will," said he, "in this--er--this--pandemonium."
+
+I walked over to the dressing-table and put out the lamp. "Now will you
+go away?" said I.
+
+"You were expeditious," said he, making for the hall, and stumbling over
+something as he went, "but not quite expeditious enough. Never mind
+about the scarf. I think I'll let the Philosopher take the Girl Guest to
+walk--the Gay Lady's good enough for me. I say"--as he moved toward the
+staircase and I followed--"don't you think we'd better move the
+Philosopher in to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow," said I with assumed conviction, "it will be different.
+Please reserve your judgment."
+
+I tried to reserve my own. I did not go into Althea's room again until
+the next evening at the same hour. I found ten articles strewn where
+five had lain before. A bottle of something green had been tipped over
+upon the white embroidered cover of my dressing-table. A spot of ink
+adorned the edge of the sheet, and the condition of the bed showed
+plainly that an afternoon nap upon it had ended with some letter
+writing. I think Althea's shoes had been dusted with one of my best
+towels. I did not stay to see what else had been done, but I could not
+help noting three more brown scratches on my white wall.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the end of the week Althea went away. When she had gone I went up to
+her room. I had been at work there for some time when a tap at the door
+interrupted me. The Skeptic stood outside with a hoe and a
+bushel-basket.
+
+"Want some help?" offered he.
+
+"It's not gentlemanly of you to notice," said I weakly.
+
+"I know it," said he. He came in and inverted the bushel-basket on the
+hearth and sat down upon it. "But the door was always open, and I
+couldn't help seeing. If it wasn't shoes and a kimono in the middle of
+the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to
+count the things on that dressing----"
+
+"It was _very_ ungentlemanly of you!"
+
+"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his
+eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take
+notes like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the
+Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how
+it looks inside--by the Gay Lady herself."
+
+"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean--how
+can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in
+order?--for she certainly does."
+
+"I knew it," said he triumphantly.
+
+"But how?"
+
+"And I know that you keep yours in order."
+
+"But _how_?"
+
+"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can
+see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of
+her collar with a common brass pin----"
+
+I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but
+his eyes are so keen and----
+
+He laughed. "The Philosopher liked Miss Althea."
+
+"She has many lovely qualities----" I began.
+
+"Of course. That sort always have. It's their beautiful good-nature that
+makes them so easy on themselves. Er--by-the-way----Well, well----"
+
+The Skeptic's gaze had fallen upon the brown marks on the white wall,
+above the lamp. There were now twenty-seven in all. He got up from his
+bushel-basket and walked over to them. He stood and studied them for a
+minute in silence. Finally he turned around, looked at me, made a dive
+for the bushel-basket and the hoe, and hurried out of the door.
+
+"I'll bring up a pail of whitewash," he called.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I shall ask Althea again some time. She really has a great many lovely
+qualities, as I said to the Skeptic. But there is a little room I have,
+which I do not call a guest-room, into which I shall put Althea. It has
+a sort of chocolate paper on the walls, on which I do not think the
+marks of matches would much show, and it has a general suitableness to
+this particular guest. I have sometimes harboured small boys there, for
+the toilet appointments are done in red on brown linen, and curling
+irons could be laid on them without serious damage. And I've no doubt
+that she would like that room quite as well.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CAMELLIA
+
+    You thought to break a country heart
+    For pastime, ere you went to town.
+    --_Tennyson._
+
+
+"Did you say Camellia is going to stop here on her way home?" asked the
+Gay Lady.
+
+"For a few days," I assented.
+
+The Gay Lady was standing in front of the closet in her room, in which
+hung a row of frocks, on little hangers covered with pale blue ribbon.
+She sighed pensively as she gazed at the garments. Then she looked at me
+with a smile. "Would you mind if I keep to my room while Camellia is
+here?" she asked.
+
+"I should mind very much," said I. "Besides, I've only two good dresses
+myself."
+
+I went down to the porch. "Camellia is going to stop and make us a short
+visit on her way home from the South," I announced.
+
+The Skeptic sat up. "Great guns!" he ejaculated. "I must send all my
+trousers to be pressed."
+
+"Who's Camellia?" queried the Philosopher, looking up calmly from
+his book.
+
+"Wait and see," replied the Skeptic.
+
+"Probably I shall," agreed the Philosopher. "Meanwhile a little
+information might not come amiss. Sending all one's trousers to be
+pressed at once sounds to me serious. Is the lady a connoisseur in
+men's attire?"
+
+"She may or may not be," said the Skeptic. "The effect is the same. At
+sight of her my cravat gets under my ear, my coat becomes shapeless, my
+shoes turn pigeon-toed. We have to dress for dinner every night when
+Miss Camellia is here."
+
+"I won't," said the Philosopher shortly.
+
+"Wait and see," chuckled the Skeptic. He looked at me. "Ask her,"
+he added.
+
+The Philosopher's fine blue eyes were lifted once more from his book. It
+was a scientific book, and the habit of inquiry is always strong upon
+your scientist. "Do _you_ dress for dinner when Miss Camellia is here?"
+he asked of me. "That is--I mean in a way which requires a dinner-coat
+of us?"
+
+"I think I won't--before she comes," I said. "Afterward--I get out the
+best I have."
+
+"Which proves none too good," supplemented the Skeptic.
+
+"It's July," said the Philosopher thoughtfully. He looked down at his
+white ducks. "Couldn't you wire her not to come?" he suggested after
+a moment.
+
+The Skeptic grinned at me. I shook my head. He shook his head.
+
+"We don't want her not to come," he said, more cheerfully. "She's worth
+it. To see her is a liberal education. To clothe her would be ruin and
+desolation. Brace up, Philo--she's certainly worth all the agony of mind
+she may cause you. I only refrain from falling head over ears in love
+with her by keeping my hand in my pocket, feeling over my loose change
+and reminding myself that it's all I have--and it wouldn't buy her a
+handkerchief."
+
+The Gay Lady spent the morning freshening her frocks--which were
+somehow never anything but fresh, no matter how much she wore them. It
+was true that there were not very many of them, and that none of them
+had cost very much money, but they were fascinating frocks nevertheless,
+and she had so many clever ways of varying them with knots of ribbon and
+frills of lace, that one never grew tired of seeing her wear them.
+
+The Skeptic sent several pairs of trousers to be pressed and a bundle of
+other things to be laundered. I got out a gown I had expected to wear
+only on state occasions, and did something to the sleeves. The
+Philosopher was the only person who remained unaffected by the news that
+Camellia was coming. We envied him his calm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Camellia arrived. Three trunks arrived at the same time. Camellia's
+appearance, as she came up the porch steps, while trim and attractive,
+gave no hint to the Philosopher's eyes, observant though they were, of
+what was to be expected. He had failed to note the trunks. This was not
+strange, for Camellia had a beautiful face, and her manner was, as
+always, charming.
+
+"I don't see," said the Philosopher in my ear, at a moment when Camellia
+was occupied with the Skeptic and the Gay Lady, "what there is about
+that to upset you all."
+
+"Don't you?" said I pityingly. Evidently, from what he had heard us say,
+he had expected her to arrive in an elaborate reception gown--or
+possibly in spangles and lace!
+
+Camellia went to her room--the white room. This time I had no fears for
+the embroidered linen on my dressing-table or for the purity of my white
+wall. I repaired to my own room--_to dress for dinner_. As I passed the
+porch door on my way I looked out. The Gay Lady had vanished--so had the
+Skeptic. The Philosopher was walking up and down--in white ducks. He
+hailed me as I passed.
+
+"See here," he said under his breath. "I thought you people were all
+guying in that talk about dressing for dinner while--while Miss Camellia
+is here. But the Skeptic has gone to do it--if he's not bluffing. Is it
+true? Do you mean it? We--that is--we haven't been dressing for
+dinner--except, of course, you ladies seem always to--but that's
+different. And it's awfully hot to-night," he added plaintively.
+
+"Don't do it," said I hurriedly. "I don't know any reason why we
+should--in the country--in July."
+
+He looked at me doubtfully. "But is the Skeptic going to--really?"
+
+"I presume he really is. You see--he has met Camellia before. He knows
+how she will be looking when she comes down. He admires Camellia very
+much, and he might possibly feel a little odd--in tennis flannels----"
+
+"It's queer," murmured the Philosopher. "But perhaps I'd better not be
+behind in the procession, even if I wilt my collar." He fingered
+lovingly the soft, rolled-over collar of his white shirt, with its
+loose-knotted tie, and sighed again. Then he moved toward the stairs.
+
+We were all on the porch when Camellia came down. The Gay Lady had put
+on a white muslin--the finest, simplest thing. The Philosopher, pushing
+a finger between his collar and his neck, to see if the wilting process
+had begun, eyed the Gay Lady approvingly. "Whatever she wears," he
+whispered to her, "she can't win over you."
+
+The Gay Lady laughed. "Yes, she can," she declared.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She did. Camellia was a vision when she came floating out upon the
+porch. The Philosopher was glad he had on his dinner-coat--I saw it in
+his eye. The Skeptic's tanned cheek turned a reddish shade--he looked as
+if he felt pigeon-toed. The Gay Lady held her pretty head high as she
+smiled approval on the guest. Camellia's effect on the Gay Lady was to
+make her feel like a school-girl--she had repeatedly avowed it to me
+in private.
+
+Camellia never seemed conscious of her fine attire--that could always
+truthfully be said. Although on the present occasion she was dressed as
+duchesses dress for a lawn-party, she seemed supremely unconscious of
+the fact. The only trouble was that the rest of us could not be
+unconscious of it.
+
+The dinner moved slowly. We all did our best, including the Philosopher,
+whose collar was slowly melting, so that he had to keep his chin well
+up, lest it crush the linen hopelessly beneath. The Skeptic joked
+ceaselessly, but one could see that all the time he feared his cravat
+might be awry. The dinner itself was a much more formal affair than
+usual--somehow that always seemed necessary when Camellia was one's
+guest. We were glad when it was over and we could go back to the cool
+recesses of the porch.
+
+The next morning Camellia wore an unpretentious dress of white--one
+which made the thing the Gay Lady had worn at dinner the evening before
+seem to her memory poor indeed. Later in the morning the Skeptic took
+Camellia boating on the river, and she went up and dressed for it in a
+yachting suit of white flannel. It was some slight consolation that she
+came back from the river much bedraggled about the skirts, for the boat
+had sprung a leak and all the Skeptic's gallantry could not keep her
+dry. But this necessitated a change before luncheon, and some of us were
+nearly unable to eat with Camellia sitting there in the frock she had
+put on at the last minute. She was a dream in the pale pink of it, and
+the Skeptic appeared to be losing his head. On the contrary, the
+Philosopher was seen to examine her thoughtfully through the eyeglasses
+he sometimes wears for reading, and which he had forgotten to remove.
+
+On the morning of the third day I discovered the Gay Lady mending a
+little hole in the skirt of a tiny-flowered dimity, her bright eyes
+suspiciously misty.
+
+"I'm a g-goose, I know," she explained, smiling at me through
+the mist, "but it does make me absurdly envious. My things look
+so--so--_duddy_--beside hers."
+
+"They're not duddy!" I cried warmly. "But I know what you mean. My
+very best gown, that I had made in town by Lautier herself, seems
+countrified. Don't mind. Our things will look quite right again--next
+week."
+
+"What do you suppose she will wear to-night?" sighed she.
+
+"Heaven only knows," I answered feebly.
+
+What she wore was a French frock which finished us all. I had fears for
+the sanity of the Skeptic. I was sure he did not know what he was
+eating. He could not, of course, sit with his hands in his trousers'
+pockets, from time to time giving his loose change a warning jingle, to
+remind himself that he could not buy her handkerchiefs. But the
+Philosopher appeared to retain his self-control. I caught his scientific
+eye fixed upon the pearl necklace Camellia wore. It struck me that the
+Philosopher and the Skeptic had temporarily exchanged characters.
+
+In the late afternoon, at the end of the sixth day, Camellia left us.
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher came to dinner in flannels--it had grown
+slightly cooler. The Gay Lady and I wore things we had not worn for a
+week--and I was sure the Gay Lady had never looked prettier. After
+dinner, in the early dusk, we sat upon the porch. For some time we were
+more or less silent. Then the Skeptic, from the depths of a bamboo
+lounging chair, his legs stretching half-way across the porch in a
+relaxed attitude they had not worn for a week, heaved a sigh which
+seemed to struggle up from the depths of his interior.
+
+The Philosopher rolled over in the hammock, where he had been reposing
+on his back, his hands clasped under his head, and looked scrutinizingly
+at his friend.
+
+"Don't take it too hard," he counselled gently. "It's not worth it."
+
+"I know it," replied the Skeptic with another sigh. "But I wish I were
+worth--millions."
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," argued the Philosopher.
+
+The Gay Lady and I exchanged glances--through the twilight. We would
+have arisen and fled, but the Skeptic caught at my skirts.
+
+"Don't go," he begged. "I'm not really insane--only delirious. It'll
+wear off."
+
+"It will," agreed the Philosopher.
+
+"I suppose," began the Skeptic, after some further moments of silence,
+"that it's really mostly clothes."
+
+"She's a very charming girl," said the Gay Lady quickly. "I don't blame
+you."
+
+"Honestly," said the Skeptic, sitting up and looking at her, "don't you
+think her clothes are about all there is of her?"
+
+"No," said the Gay Lady stoutly.
+
+"Yes," said the Philosopher comfortably.
+
+"Yes--and no," said I, as the Skeptic looked at me.
+
+"A girl," argued the Philosopher, suddenly pulling himself out of the
+hammock and beginning to pace the floor, "who could come here to this
+unpretentious country place with three trunks, and then wear their
+contents----Look here"--he paused in front of me and looked at me as
+piercingly as somewhat short-sighted blue eyes can look in the
+twilight--"did she ever wear the same thing twice?"
+
+"I believe not," I admitted.
+
+"A girl who could come to a place like this and make a show figure of
+herself in clothes that any fool could see cost--Caesar, what must they
+cost!--and change four times a day--and keep us dancing around in
+starched collars----"
+
+"You didn't have to----"
+
+"Yes, we did--pardon me! We did, not to be innocently--not
+insolently--mistaken for farm hands. I tell you, a girl like that would
+keep a man humping to furnish the wherewithal. For what," continued the
+Philosopher, growing very earnest--"what, if she'd wear that sort of
+clothes here, would she consider necessary for--for--visiting her rich
+friends? Tell me that!"
+
+We could not tell him that. We did not try.
+
+The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into
+plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's
+present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let
+appear to anybody.
+
+The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair.
+
+"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady.
+
+They sauntered slowly away into the twilight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Philosopher came and sat down by me.
+
+"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset.
+I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But
+when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here
+together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I
+have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her
+clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored.
+Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?"
+
+"Lovely," I agreed heartily.
+
+"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I
+should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less
+than Miss Camellia's."
+
+"Considerably."
+
+"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't
+suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes--unless
+he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced
+to--eh?"
+
+"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the
+Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.
+
+"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time
+speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is on
+this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a
+July evening!"
+
+The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as he
+came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall,
+looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had
+been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her
+smile, I doubted if he had been bored.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+DAHLIA
+
+    O, weary fa' the women fo'k,
+      For they winna let a body be!
+    --_James Hogg._
+
+
+My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch
+of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her
+father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite
+of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that
+there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's
+long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista
+of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she
+appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across
+the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles,
+and one of those coquettish, white-frilled sunbonnets summer-girls wear
+in the country.
+
+Dahlia is very pretty, very good company, and likable from many points
+of view. If only----
+
+"Who's this coming to invade our completeness?" queried the Philosopher,
+looking up from his book of trout flies. Fishing, in its scientific
+aspect, presents many attractions to our Philosopher, although he spends
+so much time in getting ready to do it scientifically that he seldom
+finds much left in which to fish.
+
+The Skeptic glanced at the figure coming over the lawn. Then he made a
+gesture as if he were about to turn up his coat collar. He hitched
+himself slightly behind one of the white pillars of the porch.
+
+"Keep cool; you'll soon know," he replied to the Philosopher. "And once
+knowing, you'll always know."
+
+The Philosopher looked slightly mystified at this oracular information,
+and gazed rather curiously at Dahlia as she came near, before he dropped
+his eyes to his trout flies.
+
+The Skeptic appeared to be absorbed in a letter which he had hastily
+extracted from his pocket. It was merely a brief business communication
+in type, as I could not help seeing over his shoulder, but he withdrew
+his attention from it with difficulty as Dahlia paused before him. Her
+first greeting was for him, although I had risen just behind him.
+
+"Oh--how do you do, Miss Dahlia?" cried the Skeptic, getting to his feet
+and receiving her outstretched hand in his own. Then he made as if to
+pass her on to me, but she wouldn't be passed until she had said
+something under her breath to him, smiling up into his face, her fingers
+clinging to his.
+
+"Been--er--horribly busy," I heard him murmur in reply. I thought his
+hand showed symptoms of letting go before hers did.
+
+I greeted Dahlia, introducing her to the Gay Lady, who smiled at her
+from over a handkerchief she was embroidering with my initials. I
+presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies.
+She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking
+(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she
+dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely
+offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better,
+and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
+remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
+his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
+asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which
+showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
+observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."
+
+Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
+expression.
+
+The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.
+
+"You will excuse----" he began.
+
+But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she
+said softly.
+
+"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
+think, myself."
+
+Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at
+least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.
+
+"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
+disappointed child.
+
+I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I
+observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is
+invariably courteous.
+
+"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's
+rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks
+considerably, but----"
+
+"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with
+delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a
+look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it
+failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my
+sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called
+back to us, as the two walked away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Skeptic got the pillar between himself and the departing pair. His
+face was convulsed with mirth. He slapped his knee. "I said he'd soon
+know," he chuckled, holding himself in with an effort, "but I didn't
+think he'd find out quite so soon. Smoke and ashes--but that was quick
+work!"
+
+He turned about and looked up at the Gay Lady. "Will you go fishing?" he
+inquired, still chuckling.
+
+"No, thank you," responded the Gay Lady, smiling at her embroidery
+without looking up.
+
+"Will you go fishing?"
+
+The inquiry was directed at me.
+
+I shook my head.
+
+The Skeptic fell into an attitude of mock despair. Then he sat up. "I'm
+going to go down and hide behind the big tree at the bend," he declared.
+"I want to see Philo when she----"
+
+The Gay Lady spoke to me. "Do you think I'm getting that K too heavy?"
+she asked.
+
+The Skeptic laughed, and strolled away--not in the direction of the
+trout stream.
+
+Dahlia and the Philosopher came back just as luncheon was served. Dahlia
+was looking pinker than ever, and I thought the Philosopher's tan had
+rather a pinkish hue, also. I felt obliged to ask Dahlia to stay to
+luncheon and she promptly accepted. Throughout the meal she was very
+gay, sitting at my round table between the Philosopher and the Skeptic,
+and plying both with attentions. It is a singular phrase to use, in
+speaking of a girl, but I know no other that applies so well--in
+Dahlia's case.
+
+After luncheon the Philosopher bolted. His movements are usually
+deliberate, but I never saw a quicker exit made from a dining-room which
+has only two doors. One door leads into the hall, the other to the
+pantry. The rest of us went out the hall door. When we reached the porch
+the Philosopher was missing. There is no explanation except that he went
+out by the pantry door.
+
+On the porch the Skeptic said, "I must run down to the barn and look
+after Skylark's foot. He cut himself when I was out on him yesterday."
+
+He hastened away down the driveway.
+
+Dahlia looked after him.
+
+"Is Skylark here?" she asked. "Oh, how I want to see the dear thing!
+And he's cut his foot!--I'm going to run down to the barn, too, and
+see him."
+
+And she hurried away after the Skeptic.
+
+"I think I'll go in and sleep a while," said the Gay Lady to me. Her
+expressive lips had a curious little twist of scorn.
+
+"I should, too, if I hadn't a new guest," said I.
+
+We tried not to smile at each other, but we couldn't quite help it.
+
+The Gay Lady went away to her room. I heard her close the blinds on the
+side that looked off toward the barn, and, glancing up, saw that she had
+turned down the slats tightly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I think it must have been well on toward four in the afternoon when the
+white sunbonnet at last disappeared through the gap in the hedge. The
+Skeptic came back up the garden path at the pace of an escaping convict,
+and went tearing up the stairs to his room. I heard him splashing like a
+seal in his bath. Presently he came out, freshly attired and went away
+down the road, in the opposite direction from that in which lay the
+house beyond the hedge.
+
+Dahlia came over at twilight that evening--to bring me a great bunch of
+golden-glow. She was captivatingly arrayed in blue. She remained for an
+hour or so. When she went away the Skeptic walked home with her. He was
+forced to do it. The Philosopher had disappeared again, quite without
+warning, some twenty minutes earlier.
+
+She came over the next afternoon. On the day following she practically
+took up her residence with us. I thought of inviting her to bring a
+trunk and occupy the white room. On the fourth night I accidentally
+overheard a brief but pregnant colloquy which took place just inside the
+library door, toward the last of the evening.
+
+"You've got to take her home to-night, old man."
+
+"I won't." It was the Philosopher.
+
+"You've got to. It's your turn. No shirking."
+
+"I'll be hanged if I will."
+
+"I'll be hanged if _I_ will. There's a limit."
+
+"I'd always supposed there was. There doesn't seem to be."
+
+"Come along--stand up to it like a man. It's up to you to-night. She
+can't carry you off bodily."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that." The Philosopher's tone was grim.
+
+So far I had been transfixed. But now I hurried away. I was consumed
+with anxiety during the next ten minutes, lest they come to blows in
+settling it. But when they appeared I could tell that they had settled
+it somehow.
+
+When Dahlia arose and said that she positively must go they both
+accompanied her. The transit occupied less time than it had done on any
+previous occasion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From this time on there was concerted action on the part of our two men.
+Where one was, the other was. The Gay Lady and I received less attention
+than we were accustomed to expect--the two men were too busy standing by
+each other to have much time for us.
+
+"I'm so sorry," said Dahlia, coming over after dinner on the tenth
+evening, "but I'm going away to-morrow. I've an invitation that I'm
+simply not allowed to refuse."
+
+The Philosopher's face lit up. He attempted to conceal it by burying his
+head in his handkerchief for a moment, in mock distress, but his
+satisfaction showed even behind his ears. The Skeptic bent down and
+elaborately tied his shoe-ribbon. The Gay Lady regarded Dahlia sweetly,
+and said, "That's surely very nice for you."
+
+"I think," observed Dahlia, looking coyly from the Skeptic to the
+Philosopher, "that I shall have to let each of you take me for a
+farewell walk to-night. You first"--she indicated the Philosopher. "Or
+shall it be a row for one and a walk for the other?"
+
+She and the Philosopher strolled away toward the river. There had been
+no way out for him.
+
+"The Englishman, the Scotsman and the Irishman," began the Skeptic, in a
+conversational tone, "being about to be hanged, were given their choice
+of a tree. 'The oak for me,' says the Englishman. 'The Scotch elm for
+mine,' says the Scotsman. 'Faith,' says the Irishman, 'I'll be afther
+takin' a gooseberry bush.' 'That's too small,' says the hangman. 'I'll
+wait for it to grow,' says the Irishman contentedly."
+
+Whereat he disappeared. When Dahlia and the Philosopher returned he had
+not come back. I was amazed at him, but my amazement did not produce
+him, and the Philosopher accompanied Dahlia home. When they were well
+away the Skeptic swung himself up over the side of the porch, from among
+some bushes.
+
+"'All's fair in love and war,'" he grinned. "Besides, the campaign's
+over. Philo's gained experience. He's a veteran now. He'll never be such
+easy game again. Haven't we behaved well, on the whole?" he asked the
+Gay Lady, dropping upon a cushion at her feet.
+
+"I don't think you have," said the Gay Lady gently.
+
+"We haven't! Why not?"
+
+She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as
+before, but quite firmly.
+
+The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't
+know----"
+
+"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely
+evening?"
+
+"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It
+would be delightful on the river."
+
+She shook her head again.
+
+"Not nicer than here," she answered.
+
+The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the
+Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the
+Philosopher to lean upon.
+
+"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.
+
+"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be
+clear in."
+
+"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.
+
+He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.
+
+The Gay Lady rose.
+
+"The air is making me sleepy," said she in her musically sweet voice.
+"Good-night."
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher looked after her retreating figure even
+after it ceased to be visible, drifting down the wide, central hall.
+
+"The worst of it is," grumbled the Skeptic, "that an exhibition of that
+sort of thing always makes the other kind draw off, for fear we may
+possibly think they're in the same class."
+
+I, too, now said good-night, and went away to let them have it out
+between them.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+RHODORA
+
+    Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
+    --_Gray._
+
+
+This morning we had a surprise. Grandmother and Rhodora drove over from
+Langdale, ten miles away, to spend two days. Grandmother does not belong
+to us exclusively--she is Grandmother to a large circle of people, all
+of whom are glad to see her whenever they have the opportunity. Rhodora
+is a new granddaughter of the old lady--by which I mean to say that
+Rhodora never saw Grandmother till a fortnight ago, when the girl
+arrived to pay her a visit.
+
+"I wanted to see you people so much," explained Rhodora, coming breezily
+upon the porch a step or two in advance of the old lady, "that I thought
+I'd drive over. Grandmother wanted to come too, so I brought her."
+
+Grandmother's dark eyebrows below her white curls went up a trifle. It
+was quite evident that she thought she had brought Rhodora, inasmuch as
+the carriage, the horses, and the old family coachman were all her own.
+But she did not correct the girl. She is a tiny little lady, with a
+gentle, somewhat hesitating manner, but her black eyes are very bright,
+and she sees things with almost as keen a vision as Lad himself.
+
+The Gay Lady was charmed with Grandmother. She put the frail visitor
+into the easiest chair on the porch, untied her bonnet-strings, smoothed
+her soft, white curls, and brought a footstool for her little feet. Then
+she sat by her, listening and talking--doing much more listening than
+talking--leaving Rhodora to me.
+
+"I'm sorry our men are away to-day," I said to Rhodora, "and Lad is with
+them. They went early this morning to climb Bluebeard Mountain, and
+won't be back till night. It is rather quiet here without them."
+
+"Are they young and jolly?" inquired Rhodora.
+
+"They are extremely jolly. As for being young, that depends upon one's
+point of view," said I. "They are between twenty-five and thirty-five, I
+believe."
+
+"Pretty wide margin," laughed Rhodora. "And how old is Lad?"
+
+"Fifteen."
+
+"I've had the bad luck to be stuck off with old people all the while
+lately," remarked Rhodora. She looked at me as she spoke. I wondered if
+she considered me "old people." Then she glanced at the Gay Lady.
+
+"How old is she?" she inquired.
+
+"I have never asked her."
+
+"Looks like a girl, but I guess she isn't. A real girl would never
+settle down like that to talk to an old lady like Grandmother," she
+observed sagely.
+
+I opened my lips--and closed them. I had known Miss Rhodora only about
+ten minutes, and one does not make caustic speeches to one's guests--if
+one can help it. But one does take observations upon them. I was taking
+observations upon Rhodora.
+
+She was decidedly a handsome girl--handsome seems the word. She was
+rather large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat
+strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her
+arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her
+arms were considerably in evidence.
+
+"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my
+little black silk bag from the carriage?"
+
+"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she
+inquired of me.
+
+The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to
+search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away
+down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the
+carriage. She came back bringing it.
+
+"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have
+repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling
+that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person, and that,
+in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as
+girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute
+for one.
+
+The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I
+understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine
+oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by
+dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted
+two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of
+stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could
+quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora
+accepted them and did her best.
+
+When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to
+the white room.
+
+"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her
+white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong
+one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time.
+Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to peer over her shoulder, and
+seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow,
+as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's
+delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in
+astonishment.
+
+"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finished with it herself.
+
+Rhodora went over to the washstand, and washed and splashed, and used
+one of the towels and threw it back upon the rack so that it overhung
+all the other fresh towels. Grandmother used one end of Rhodora's towel,
+and carefully folded and put it in place, looking regretfully at its
+rumpled condition. She took a clean pocket-handkerchief out of her bag.
+Rhodora caught sight of it.
+
+"Oh, Grandmother, have you got a spare handkerchief?" she cried. "I've
+lost mine, I'm afraid."
+
+Grandmother handed her the little square of fine linen, exquisitely
+embroidered with her own monogram, and took another and plainer one from
+her bag.
+
+"Try not to lose that one, Granddaughter," she said, in her gentle way.
+
+Rhodora pushed it inside her sleeve. "Oh, I seldom lose two in one day,"
+she assured the handkerchief's owner.
+
+I fear it was rather a dull afternoon for Rhodora. The Gay Lady took
+Grandmother away after luncheon into the quiet, green-hung library, and
+tucked her up on the couch, and covered her with a little silk quilt
+from her own room, and went away and played softly upon the piano in the
+distance until the old lady fell asleep. Late in the afternoon
+Grandmother awoke much refreshed, and found the Gay Lady sitting by the
+window, keeping guard.
+
+"It does one's eyes good to look at you, my dear," were Grandmother's
+first words, after she had lain for some time quietly observing the
+figure by the window, freshly dressed in white. The Gay Lady got up and
+came over to the couch and bent down, smiling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Just in time for a late dinner our men came home, sunburned and hungry.
+Seeing guests upon the porch they made for their rooms, and reappeared
+presently in that irreproachable trim which the dustiest and most
+disreputable-looking of them seems able to achieve, being given plenty
+of water, in the twinkling of an eye.
+
+They were presented to Grandmother. At almost the same moment we were
+summoned to dinner. The Skeptic gave the old lady his arm. The
+Philosopher picked up her black silk bag from the porch floor, and
+followed with it dangling from his hand. Just as she reached the table
+she dropped her handkerchief, and the Lad sprang for it as a retriever
+springs for a stick, and handed it to her with his best boyish bow. The
+old lady beamed. Quite evidently this was the sort of thing to which she
+was accustomed.
+
+At luncheon Rhodora had rather monopolized the conversation. At dinner
+she found herself unable to do so. The Philosopher and the Skeptic were
+too much occupied with Grandmother to be able to attend to Rhodora,
+beyond lending a polite ear to her remarks now and then and immediately
+afterward returning to the elderly guest. Grandmother was really a most
+interesting talker when occasion required it of her, as it certainly did
+now. We were all charmed with her clever way of putting things, her
+shrewd observation, her knowledge of and interest in affairs in general.
+
+After dinner the Philosopher escorted her out to her chair on the porch.
+The Skeptic sat down beside the Gay Lady on a wide, wooden settle close
+by, and both listened, smiling, to the discussion which had arisen
+between Grandmother and the Philosopher. It was well worth listening to.
+The Philosopher, while wholly deferential, held his ground staunchly,
+but Grandmother worsted him in the end. Her cheeks grew pink, her black
+eyes shone. It was a captivating spectacle.
+
+I called Rhodora's attention to it. Finding nobody else to do her honour
+she had entered into conversation with the Lad. Both looked up as I
+spoke to them.
+
+"Yes, isn't she great!" agreed the Lad softly. "Nicest old lady I
+ever saw."
+
+"It's too exciting for her, I should say," commented her granddaughter.
+"I didn't think she ought to come. I could have come alone just as
+well--I'd a good deal rather. She's getting pretty old."
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher each did his duty by Rhodora before the
+evening was over. The Skeptic played four sets of tennis with her--she
+is an admirable player--but he beat her until he discovered that she was
+growing very much annoyed--then he allowed her to win the last set by a
+game. The Lad, who was watching the bout, announced it to me under his
+breath with a laugh. Then the Philosopher took Rhodora through the
+garden and over the place generally.
+
+"I think you should have a shawl about your shoulders, Rhodora," said
+Grandmother, when the girl and the Philosopher had returned and taken
+their seats upon the steps of the porch. The twilight had fallen, and
+the Gay Lady had just wrapped Grandmother in a light garment of her own.
+
+Rhodora shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens, no!" she ejaculated. "Old
+people are always fussing," she remarked, in a slightly lower tone to
+the Philosopher. "Because she's frozen is no reason why I should be."
+
+"One could almost pretend to be frozen to please her," returned the
+Philosopher, in a much lower tone than Rhodora's. "She is the most
+beautiful old lady I ever saw."
+
+"Goodness, I don't see how you can see anything beautiful about old
+persons," said the girl. "They give me the creeps."
+
+The Philosopher opened his mouth--and closed it again, quite as I had
+done in the morning. He looked curiously at Rhodora. By his expression I
+should judge he was thinking: "After all--what's the use?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next afternoon Grandmother and Rhodora went home. When Grandmother
+was in the carriage the Skeptic tucked her in and put cushions behind
+her back and a footstool under her feet. Then the Philosopher laid a
+great nosegay of garden flowers in her lap. She was so pleased she
+coloured like a girl, and put out her delicate little old hand in its
+black silk mitt, and he took it in both his and held it close for a
+minute, looking at her with his blue eyes full of such a boyish
+expression of affection as his own mother might have seen now and then,
+years before. I think she would have liked to kiss him, and I am sure he
+wanted to kiss her, but we were all looking on, and they had known each
+other but a few hours. Nevertheless, there was something about the
+little scene which touched us all--except Rhodora, who exclaimed:
+
+"Gracious, Grandmother--I suppose that brings back the days when you had
+lots of beaux! What a gorgeous jumble of old-fashioned flowers that is,
+anyhow. I didn't know there were so many kinds in the world!"
+
+The Skeptic hustled her into the carriage, rather as if she were a bag
+of meal, handed her belongings in after her, shook hands with
+Grandmother in his most courtly fashion, and stood aside. We waved our
+hands and handkerchiefs, and Grandmother's fat old horses walked away
+with her down the driveway.
+
+"It's a pity," said the Skeptic to me impatiently, when they were out of
+sight around the corner, and we had turned to go back to the house,
+"that a girl like that can't see herself."
+
+"Rhodora is very young yet," said I. "Perhaps by the time she is even as
+old as the Gay Lady----"
+
+"You don't think it," declared the Skeptic, looking ahead at the Gay
+Lady as she walked by the Philosopher over the lawn toward the house.
+"The two are no more the same sort--than----" he looked toward the
+garden for inspiration and found it, as many a man before him has found
+it, when searching after similes for the women he knows--"than those
+yellow tiger-lilies of yours are like--a clump of hepaticas that you
+find in the woods in spring."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That evening the Gay Lady had left us, as she sometimes does, and gone
+in to play soft, old-time melodies on my piano, while the rest of us sat
+silently listening. The men know well enough that it is useless to
+follow her in when she goes to play in the twilight--if they did she
+would send them back again, or stop playing. And as it is worth much to
+hear her play when she has a certain mood upon her, nobody does anything
+to break the spell. Sometimes the listening grows almost painful, but
+before we are quite overwrought she comes back and makes us gay again.
+
+"When I was a boy," said the Skeptic, very softly to me, after the music
+stopped, "I used to pick out men to admire and follow about, and
+consume myself with wishing that some day I could be like them. How
+could a girl like that one we've had here to-day look at our Gay Lady
+and not want to copy her to the last hair on her head?"
+
+"There are some things which can't be copied," I returned. "She is one
+of them."
+
+The Skeptic gave me a grateful glance. "You never said a truer thing
+than that," said he.
+
+Perceiving that he was in a sentimental mood, and that the Gay Lady had
+stopped playing and was coming out again upon the porch, I turned my
+attention to the Philosopher. In spite of the music he seemed not in a
+sentimental mood.
+
+"You have a lot of girl company, first and last, don't you?" he queried,
+when he and I had agreed upon the beauty of the night.
+
+"It happens so, for some reason," I admitted.
+
+He shook his head regretfully. "If I thought you were going to have
+anything more like that to-day soon, I should take to the woods,"
+said he.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+AZALEA
+
+    It all depends upon a consciousness of values, a sense of proportion.
+    --_Arthur Christopher Benson._
+
+
+"The heavens have fallen!" I announced in the doorway of the Gay Lady's
+room. "Cook is ill--I had the doctor for her in the night. And my little
+waitress went home just yesterday to her sister's wedding."
+
+"And breakfast to get," responded the Gay Lady, arriving instantly at
+the point, as she always does. She had been dressing leisurely. Now she
+made all speed and instead of white linen she slipped into a
+blue-and-white-checked gingham. "Don't worry--I'll be down in three
+minutes," she assured me cheerily.
+
+I found Lad building the kitchen fire--in the country we do not have gas
+ranges. "I'll have her roaring in a jiff," he cried. "I learned a dandy
+way camping last year."
+
+Breakfast came off nearly on schedule time. The Gay Lady's omelet was a
+feathery success, her coffee perfect, my muffins above reproach. Lad had
+helped set the table, he had looked over the fruit, he had skimmed the
+cream.
+
+Azalea came in a little late. She had been my guest for a week, and a
+delightful guest, too. She has a glorious voice for singing, and she is
+very clever and entertaining--everybody likes her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of course, when I arose to take away the fruit-plates and bring on the
+breakfast, the fact that I was servantless came out. To the Philosopher
+and the Skeptic, who were immediately solicitous, I explained that we
+should get on very well.
+
+"We'll see that you do," promised the Skeptic. "There are a few things I
+flatter myself I can do as well as the next man--or woman. Consider me
+at your service."
+
+"The same here," declared the Philosopher. "And--I say--don't fuss
+too much. Have a cold lunch--bread and milk, you know, or something
+like that."
+
+I smiled, and said that would not be necessary. Nor was it. For five
+years after my marriage I had been my own maid-servant--and those were
+happy days. My right hand had by no means forgotten her cunning. As for
+both the Gay Lady's pretty hands--they were very accomplished in
+household arts. And she had put on the blue-and-white gingham.
+
+"I can wipe dishes," offered the Philosopher, as we rose from the table.
+
+"It's a useful art," said the Gay Lady. "In ten minutes we'll be ready
+for you."
+
+The Skeptic looked about him. Then he hurried away without saying
+anything. Two minutes later I found him making his bed.
+
+"Go away," he commanded me. "It'll be ship-shape, never fear. You
+remember I was sent to a military school when I was a youngster."
+
+From below, as I made Azalea's bed, the strains of one of the Liszt
+Hungarian Rhapsodies floated up to me. Azalea was playing. We had fallen
+into the habit of drifting into the living-room, where the piano stood,
+every morning immediately after breakfast, to hear Azalea play. In the
+evenings she sang to us; but one does not sing directly after breakfast,
+and only second in delight to hearing Azalea's superb voice was
+listening to her matchless touch upon the keyboard. I said to myself, as
+I went about the "upstairs work"--work that the Skeptic, with all his
+good will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain
+thresholds--that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go
+away next week.
+
+The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so
+much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners
+are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our
+regime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt
+our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of
+the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay
+Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many
+steps and the exercise of some tact--Cook having been fully persuaded
+all day that her end was near.
+
+"I have told her six times that people don't die of lumbago," said the
+Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written
+three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have
+to write her last will and testament."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own
+documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she
+did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party
+of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves
+upon us with warm greetings--and hungry looks toward our dining-room.
+
+"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the
+kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we
+had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and
+left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons
+as could be done without a full bath--"why didn't you send them on to
+the village inn? Of all the nerve!--and you don't know any of them
+intimately, do you?"
+
+I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I
+admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you
+suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some
+beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak
+is what they must have--porterhouse--since I've not enough broilers in
+the ice-box to go around that hungry company."
+
+"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my
+ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just
+sitting on the porch, looking pretty."
+
+"Somebody ought to play hostess, since I must be here," I responded,
+without meeting his inquiring eye. I did urgently need some one to beat
+the oil into the salad dressing I was making, for there were other
+things I must do. The Gay Lady was already accomplishing separate things
+with each hand, and directing Lad at the same time. The Skeptic looked
+at her appreciatively.
+
+"She mourns because she can't sing!" said he, and laughed quietly to
+himself as he swung away. Yet he had seemed much impressed with
+Azalea's singing all the week, and had turned her music for her
+devotedly.
+
+We got through it somehow. "I thought they'd eat their heads off,"
+commented the Philosopher, who had carved the beefsteak and the
+broilers, and had tried to give everybody the tenderloin and the white
+breast meat, and had eaten drumsticks and end pieces himself, after the
+manner of the unselfish host.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They
+looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for
+two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they
+always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running
+many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our
+hospitality--two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and
+drink before they could get up steam with which to start--the Gay Lady
+and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the
+state of things existing.
+
+"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon----" said I dejectedly, and did
+not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five
+extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that
+had been left in the house that would do for dinner--due now in three
+short hours.
+
+But the Gay Lady rallied nobly.
+
+"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt
+away in no time. Then--you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get
+any dinner to-night or not."
+
+The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a
+jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the
+occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling
+rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned
+that he had boldly asked her if she didn't want to help.
+
+"I hope I shan't break anything," murmured Azalea, accepting a
+dish-towel. The Skeptic took another. "Oh, no," he assured her. "That
+delicate touch of yours--why, I never heard anybody who could play
+_pianissimo_--_legato_--_cantabile_--like you. You wouldn't break a
+spun-glass rainbow."
+
+Azalea did not break anything. I think it was because she did not dry
+more than one article to the Skeptic's three and the Gay Lady's six.
+Once she dropped a china cup, but the Skeptic caught it and presented it
+to her with a bow. "Don't mention it," said he. "I'm an old
+first-baseman."
+
+The Philosopher came through the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. He
+had been attempting to sweep the dining-room floor--which is of
+hardwood, with a centre rug--and had had a bad time of it. The Skeptic
+jeered at him and mentioned the implements he should have used. Azalea
+looked at them both wonderingly.
+
+"How in the world do you men come to know so much about housework?" she
+inquired, wiping a single teaspoon diligently. The Gay Lady had just
+lifted a dozen out of the steaming pan for her, but Azalea had laid them
+all down on the table, and was polishing them one by one.
+
+"I find it comes in handy," said the Skeptic. "You never stay anywhere,
+you know, that sooner or later something doesn't happen unexpectedly
+to the domestic machinery. Besides, I like to show off--don't you? See
+here"--he turned to me. There was a twinkle in his wicked eye. "See
+here, why not let Miss Azalea and me be responsible for the dinner
+to-night--with Philo as second assistant? You and the Gay Lady are
+tired out. Miss Azalea can tell me what to do, and I'll promise to
+do it faithfully."
+
+He had not the face to look at the guest as he made this daring
+suggestion. His audacity took my breath away so completely that I could
+make no rejoinder, but the Gay Lady came to the rescue. I don't know
+whether she had seen Azalea's face, but I had.
+
+"I have a surprise for to-night," said she, picking up a trayful of
+china, "and I don't intend anybody shall interfere with it. Nobody is
+even to mention dinner in my presence."
+
+The Skeptic took the tray away from her. "There are some other things I
+should like to mention in your presence," said he, so softly that I
+think nobody heard him but myself, who was nearest. "And one of them is
+that somebody I know never looked sweeter than she does this----"
+
+I rattled the saucers in the pan that nobody might catch it. The Gay
+Lady was colouring so brilliantly that I feared the Skeptic might drop
+the tray, for he was not looking at all where he was going. But she
+disappeared into the pantry, and there was nothing left for him to do
+but to place the tray on the shelf outside, ready for her to take the
+contents in through the window.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Gay Lady put me upon my own bed, tucked me up, drew the curtains,
+and left me to my nap. She left a kiss on my cheek also, and as she
+dropped it there I thought of the Skeptic again--I don't know why. I
+wondered casually what he would give for one like it.
+
+When I awoke my room was so nearly dark that I was startled into
+thinking it next morning. The Lad's voice, speaking eagerly through my
+door, was what had roused me. He was summoning me to dinner. "It's all
+ready," he was calling.
+
+I dressed dazedly, refreshed and wondering. I went down to preside at
+the most delicious meal I had eaten in a month. The Gay Lady--in white
+muslin, with cheeks like roses--seemed not in the least fatigued. The
+Skeptic looked like a young commanding general who had seen his forces
+win triumphantly against great odds. The Philosopher was hilarious.
+Azalea seemed somewhat quiet and thoughtful.
+
+When the dishes were done and the kitchen in order--matters which were
+dispatched like wildfire--we gathered upon the porch as usual.
+
+"There is nothing in the world I should like so much," said the Gay Lady
+presently, from the low chair where she sat, with the Skeptic on a
+cushion so near to her feet that in the shadow his big figure seemed to
+melt into her slight one, "as some music. Is it asking too much, dear,
+after all those dishes?"
+
+"I don't feel a bit like singing," answered Azalea.
+
+The Philosopher sat beside her on the settle, and he turned to add his
+request to the Gay Lady's.
+
+The Skeptic spoke heartily from his cushion.
+
+"If you knew how much pleasure you've given us all these mornings and
+evenings," he said, "never having to be urged, but being so generous
+with your great art----"
+
+"Somehow it doesn't look so great to me to-night," said Azalea quietly.
+
+I almost thought there were tears in her voice. She has a beautiful
+speaking voice, as singers are apt to have.
+
+Everybody was silent for an instant, in surprise--and anxiety. Azalea
+was a very lovely girl--nobody had meant to hurt her.
+
+Had the Skeptic's shot in the kitchen gone home? Nobody would be sorrier
+than he to deal a blow where only a feather's touch was meant.
+
+"It looks so great to me," said the Gay Lady very gently, "that I would
+give--years of my life to be able to sing one song as you sing
+Beethoven's '_Adelaide_.'"
+
+"Of course I can't refuse, after that," said Azalea modestly, though
+more happily, I thought, and the Philosopher went away with her into the
+half-lit living room.
+
+"May I say anything?" asked the Skeptic, looking up into the Gay Lady's
+face, in the way he has when he wants to say things very much but is
+doubtful how she will take them--a condition he is frequently in.
+
+She shook her head--I think she must have been smiling. It was so
+evident--that which he wanted to say. He wanted to assure her that her
+own accomplishments----
+
+But the Gay Lady shook her head. "Let's just listen," she said.
+
+So we listened. It was worth it. But, after all, I doubt if the Skeptic
+heard.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+HEPATICA
+
+    Here's metal more attractive.
+    --_Hamlet._
+
+
+The Gay Lady had gone away for a week and a day. Although four of us
+remained, the gap in our number appeared prodigious. The first dinner
+without her seemed as slow and dull as a dance without music, in spite
+of the fact that we did our best, each one of us, not to act as if
+anything were wrong.
+
+When we had escaped from the dining-room to the porch, Lad was the first
+to voice his sentiments upon the subject of our drooping spirits. "I
+didn't know her being here made such a lot of difference--till she got
+away," he said dismally. "There's nobody to laugh, now, when I make a
+joke."
+
+"Don't the rest of us laugh at your jokes, son?" inquired the
+Philosopher, laying a friendly hand upon the Lad's arm as the boy stood
+on the porch step below him.
+
+"You do--if she does," replied Lad. "Lots of times you'd never notice
+what I say if she didn't look at you and laugh. Then you burst out and
+laugh too--to please her, I suppose," he added.
+
+The Philosopher glanced at me over the boy's head. "Here's a pretty
+sharp observer," said he, "with a gift at analysis. I didn't know before
+that I take my cue from the Gay Lady--or from any one else--when it
+comes to laughing at jokes. Try me with one now, Lad, and see if I don't
+laugh--all by myself."
+
+Lad shook his head. "That wouldn't be any good. I'd know you didn't mean
+it. She always means it. Besides--she thinks things are funny that you
+don't. She's 'most as good as a boy--and I don't see how she can be,
+either," he reflected, "because she isn't the least bit like one."
+
+"You're right enough about that," observed the Philosopher. "She's
+essentially feminine, if ever a girl was."
+
+"Girl!" repeated the Lad. "She isn't a girl. That is--I thought she
+was, till she told me herself she wasn't. She's twenty-seven."
+
+The Philosopher grinned. The Skeptic, who had lit his pipe and was
+puffing away at it, sitting on the settle with his back to the
+sunset--which was unusually fine that evening--gave utterance to a deep
+note of derision at the Lad's point of view. I smiled, myself. If ever
+there was an irresistible combination of the girlish and the womanly it
+was to be found in our Gay Lady. As to her looks--even the blooming
+youth of Althea, and the more cultivated charms of Camellia, had not
+made the Gay Lady less lovely in our eyes, although she was by no means
+what is known as a "beauty."
+
+"She's a whole lot nicer than any of those girls we've had here this
+summer," the Lad went on. He seemed to have the floor. There could be no
+doubt that the subject of his musings was of interest to all his
+hearers. "And they weren't so bad, either--except Dahlia. I can't stand
+her," he added resentfully.
+
+The Philosopher shook his head slightly as one who would have said "Who
+could?" if it had been allowable. The Skeptic removed his pipe from his
+mouth and gazed intently into its bowl. I felt it my duty to stand by
+Dahlia, for the sake of the Lad, who must not learn to sneer at women
+behind their backs.
+
+"There are a great many nice things about Dahlia," I said. "And she has
+surely given you many good times, Lad. Think how often she has gone out
+on the river with you--and helped you make kites, and rigged little
+ships for you----"
+
+"Oh, yes," cried the Lad scornfully, "she'll take me--when she can't get
+a man!"
+
+The Skeptic's shoulders heaved as he turned away to cough violently.
+Evidently he had swallowed a pipeful of smoke. The Philosopher abruptly
+removed his hand from the Lad's shoulder and dropped down on the porch
+step, where his face was hidden from the bright young eyes above him. I
+shook my head at Lad. Presently he ran off to the red barn to look after
+some small puppies down there in the hay.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We three left behind settled down for the evening. At least I did, and
+the others made a show of doing so. But the Skeptic was both restless
+and moody, the Philosopher unsociable. Finally the Skeptic flung an
+invitation to the Philosopher to go off for a walk. The Philosopher
+consented with a nod, and they strolled away, taking leave of me with
+formal politeness. I understood them, and I did not mind. A wise woman
+lets a man go--that he may return.
+
+They came back just as twilight darkened into night, and sat down at my
+feet on the step, shoulder to shoulder, like the good comrades that they
+were. I wondered if they had been discussing the subject which the Lad
+had introduced.
+
+"How much," inquired the Philosopher quite suddenly, "do you suppose it
+would cost to dress a girl like Miss Camellia?"
+
+"I've really no idea," I answered, since the question seemed directed at
+me. "It depends on a number of things. There are girls so clever with
+their needles that they can produce very remarkable effects for a
+comparatively small amount of money."
+
+"Is she one of them?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"I fancy you do," was his comment. Presently he went on again. "You see,
+I don't know much about all this," he declared. "So I've had rather an
+observant eye on--on these young ladies you've had here from time to
+time this summer, and I confess I'm filled with curiosity. Would you
+mind telling me what you think the average girl of good family, and well
+brought up, has in her mind's eye as a desirable future--I mean for the
+next few years after school?--I don't know that I make myself clear.
+What I want to get at is--You see, the great thing a young chap thinks
+about is what he is going to make of himself--and how to do it. It
+struck me as rather odd that not one of those girls seemed to have any
+particular end in view--at least, that ever came out in her
+conversation."
+
+I couldn't help smiling, his tone was so serious.
+
+The Skeptic chuckled. He had put up his pipe, and was sitting with his
+hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against one of the great
+pillars of the porch. "They have one, just the same," he vouchsafed. "He
+who runs may read."
+
+The Philosopher regarded him thoughtfully, through the half-light from
+the hall lamp. "I noticed you did a good deal of running, first and
+last," he observed. "I suppose you read before you ran--unless you have
+eyes in the back of your head. Well," he continued, "you can't make me
+believe that all girls are so anxious to make a good impression, or they
+wouldn't do some of the things they do."
+
+"For instance?" I suggested, having become curious myself. Never before,
+in an acquaintance dating far back, had I heard the Philosopher hold
+forth upon this subject.
+
+"They make themselves conspicuous," said he promptly--to my great
+surprise. "As nearly as I can get at it, that's the cardinal fault of
+the girl of to-day. Everywhere I go I notice it--in public--in private.
+Wherever she is she holds the floor, occupies the centre of the stage.
+If you'll pardon my saying it, every last girl you had here this summer
+did that thing, each in her own way."
+
+I thought about them--one after another. It was true. Each had, in her
+own way, occupied the centre of the stage. And the Gay Lady, than whom
+nobody has a better right to keep fast hold of her position in the
+foreground of all our thoughts, had allowed each one to do it. And
+somehow, in every case, after all, the real focus for all our eyes,
+quite without her being able to help it, had been wherever the Gay Lady
+had happened to be.
+
+We all went to bed early that night. The Philosopher's observations,
+though highly interesting, did not keep us from becoming very sleepy at
+an untimely hour. It was the same way next evening. And the next. In
+fact, up to the very night before the Gay Lady's expected return, we
+continued to cut short our days of waiting by as much as we could
+venture to do without exciting the suspicion that we were weary of one
+another.
+
+On that last evening the Skeptic fastened himself to me. He insisted on
+my walking with him in the garden.
+
+"So she comes back to-morrow," said he, as we paced down the path, quite
+as if he had just learned of the prospect of her return.
+
+"I can hardly wait," said I.
+
+"Neither can I," he agreed solemnly. "I knew I should miss her,
+but--smoke and ashes!--I didn't dream the week would be a period of time
+long enough for a ray of light to travel from Sirius to the earth and
+back again."
+
+"If she could only hear that!" said I.
+
+"She's going to hear it," he declared with great earnestness. "She's
+kept me quiet all summer, but--by a man's impatience!--she can't keep me
+quiet any longer. Do you blame me?" he inquired, wheeling to look
+intently at me through the September twilight.
+
+"Not a bit," said I. "I've only wished she could stand still until Lad
+grows up."
+
+"You must think well of her, to say that," said he delightedly. "And, on
+my word, I don't know but she will continue to stand still, as far as
+looks go. But in mind--and heart--well, the only thing is, I'm so far
+below her I don't dare to hope. All I know is that, for sheer womanly
+sweetness and strength, there's nobody her equal. And yet, when I try to
+put my finger on what makes her what she is--I can't tell."
+
+"One can't analyze her charm," said I, "except as you've just done
+it--womanly sweetness and strength. Hepatica is--Hepatica. And being
+that, we love her."
+
+"We do," said he, half under his breath, and caught my hand and gave it
+a grip which stung.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning the Gay Lady came home. We had not expected her until
+evening, and when we heard a light footstep approaching through the hall
+as we sat at breakfast, we looked at one another in dumb astonishment
+and disbelief. But the next instant she stood smiling at us from the
+doorway.
+
+She was glad to see us, too. From Lad's ecstatic embrace she came into
+mine, and I heard her eager whisper--"I'm so glad to get back to _you!_"
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher wrung her hand until I know her little
+fingers ached, and they stared at her, the one like a brother, the other
+like--well, she must have seen for herself. No, they were not rivals.
+The Philosopher had seen the Skeptic's case, I think, from the first,
+and being not only a philosopher but a man, and the Skeptic's best
+friend, had never allowed himself to enter the race at all. I had
+detected a wistful light in his eyes now and then, and had my own notion
+of what might have happened if he had let it, but--there was only a very
+warm brotherliness in the greeting he gave the Gay Lady, and she looked
+back into his eyes too frankly for me to think he had ever let her see
+anything else.
+
+She sat down at the table with us for a little, while we finished, and
+you should have seen the difference in the look of the room. It was
+another place. She ran upstairs to her own room, and I followed her, and
+from being a deserted bedroom with a lonely aspect it became a human
+habitation with an atmosphere of home. She took off her travelling
+dress, talking gayly to me all the while, and brushed her bright locks,
+and put on one of the charming white frocks which her own hands had
+made, and then came and held me tight, and laughed, and was very near
+crying, and said there was never such another place as this.
+
+"There certainly never is when you are in it, dear," I agreed, and
+received such a reward for that as only the Gay Lady knows how to give.
+
+All day she stayed by me, wherever I might be. The Skeptic watched and
+waited--he got not the ghost of an opportunity. When I was upon the
+porch with the others she was there--and not a minute after.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When evening fell it found the Gay Lady on a cushion close by my knee.
+Presently the Philosopher went off with the Lad down to the river. The
+Skeptic accompanied them part of the distance, then returned quite
+unexpectedly by way of the shrubbery, and swung up over the porch rail
+at the end at a moment when the Gay Lady, feeling safe in his absence,
+had gone to that end to see the moonlight upon the river.
+
+"'All's fair in love and war,'" exulted the Skeptic, somewhat
+breathlessly. It seemed to be a favourite maxim with him. I recalled his
+having excused himself for eluding Dahlia by that same well-worn
+proverb. "No--don't run! Have I become suddenly so terrifying?"
+
+"Why should you be terrifying?" asked Hepatica. "Come and sit down and
+tell us what you've all been doing while I was away."
+
+Her back was toward me. There was a long window open close beside me. My
+sympathy was with the Skeptic. I slipped through it.
+
+An hour later I went out upon the porch again. Nobody was there. I sat
+down alone, feeling half excited and half depressed, and wholly anxious
+to know the outcome of the Skeptic's tactics. I waited a long time, as
+it seemed to me. Then, without warning, a voice spoke. I could hardly
+recognize it for the Skeptic's voice, it was strung so tense--with joy.
+
+"Don't shoot," it said. "We'll come down."
+
+I looked toward the end of the porch, where the vines cast a deep
+shadow. I could not see them, but they must have been there all the
+time. And the shadow cast by the vines was not a wide shadow at all.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+DAHLIA AND THE PROFESSOR
+
+      Amen
+    Stuck in my throat.
+    --_Macbeth._
+
+
+The Skeptic and his wife, Hepatica, being happily established in a
+beautifully spacious flat in town, measuring thirty feet by forty over
+all, invited me to visit them. As both had spent considerable time at my
+country home in summer, they insisted that it was only just for me to
+allow them, that second winter after their marriage, to return my
+hospitality. This argument alone would hardly have sufficed, for winter
+in the country--connected by trolley with the town--is hardly less
+delightful to me than summer itself. But there were other and convincing
+arguments, and they ended by bringing me to the city for a month's visit
+in the heart of the season.
+
+On the first morning at breakfast--I had arrived late the night
+before--there was much to talk about.
+
+"It's a curious fact," said the Skeptic, stirring a cup of yellow-brown
+coffee with which his wife had just presented him, "as Hepatica and I
+discovered only the other day, that three of those girls who visited you
+that summer four years ago, when she and I were avoiding each other----"
+
+"You--avoiding!" I interpolated.
+
+"Well--I was trying to avoid being avoided by her," he explained. "Three
+of those girls are married and living in town."
+
+"Yes, I know," said I. "At least I know Camellia and Althea are. Who
+else? Azalea lives across the river, doesn't she?"
+
+"Yes. You haven't heard of the latest matrimonial alliance, then?" The
+Skeptic chuckled. Hepatica looked at him, and he looked at her, and then
+they both looked at me. "Dahlia was married yesterday," the Skeptic
+announced with relish, "in a manse study, with two witnesses."
+
+I was astounded. I had just come from home, and Dahlia was my next
+neighbour. She had been away more or less all winter, but there had
+been no announcement of any engagement--nor sign of one.
+
+The Skeptic, enjoying my stupefaction, proceeded to give what he
+considered an explanation. "I don't see why you should be so surprised,"
+he said. "You knew Dahlia's methods. Her net was always spread, and
+though a certain wise man declares it in vain to spread it in the sight
+of any bird, humans are not always so wary. A man who chanced to be
+walking along with his head in the clouds might get his feet entangled
+in a cunningly laid net. And so it happened to the Professor."
+
+"The Professor!" I ejaculated. "Not--our Professor?"
+
+The Skeptic nodded solemnly.
+
+"He was our Professor," he amended. "He's hers now. And day before
+yesterday he was free!"
+
+He glanced at his watch, folded his napkin in haste, seized his coat and
+hat, kissed his wife, patted her shoulder, nodded at me, and was gone. A
+minute later we heard the whirr and slide of his car, and Hepatica, at
+the window, was returning his wave.
+
+"He's looking extremely well," I observed. "He must be twenty pounds
+heavier than he was that summer. Avoiding being avoided was probably
+rather thinning."
+
+"He does seem to enjoy his food," admitted Hepatica, regarding the
+Skeptic's empty plate with satisfaction.
+
+"Not much doubt of that," I agreed, remembering the delicately hearty
+breakfast we had just consumed.
+
+"It's really quite dreadful about Dahlia and the poor Professor, isn't
+it?" said Hepatica presently. "And it's just as Don says: he was
+literally caught in her net. I presume he couldn't tell to-day precisely
+how it happened."
+
+"I've no doubt she could," said I ungenerously. "I shall be anxious to
+see them."
+
+"Oh, you'll see them. It's in the middle of term--he couldn't take her
+away. And his old quarters are just two blocks below us. She knew you
+were coming. You'll probably see them within forty-eight hours."
+
+We did, though not where we could do more than take observations upon
+them. The Philosopher came in that evening--he had known of my coming
+from the moment that Hepatica had planned to ask me. He was looking
+rather less well-fed than the Skeptic, but quite as philosophical, and
+altogether as friendly as ever. He looked hard at me, and wrung my hand,
+and immediately began to lay out a programme for my visit. As a
+beginning he had procured tickets for the Philharmonic Society concert
+to be given on the following evening.
+
+We told him about Dahlia. He had not heard. He looked quickly and
+dumbfoundedly at the Skeptic, and the Skeptic grinned back at him. "You
+feel for him, don't you, Philo?" he queried.
+
+The Philosopher shook his head, and seemed, for a time, much depressed;
+upon which the Skeptic rallied him. "You ought to be jubilant to think
+it's not yourself," he urged his friend. "You know, there was one time
+when you feared even to go home with her, though you were to be within
+call from the porch all the way."
+
+But the Philosopher cheered up presently in the pleasure of talking over
+old times at the Farm. He had spent the past summer tramping through
+Germany, and he and I had not met for many months.
+
+We went to the concert next evening, we four, in a jovial mood. There
+was considerable sly joking, on the Skeptic's part, concerning the
+change of conditions which now made Hepatica my chaperon, instead of, as
+in former days, my being alert to protect her from visiting philosophers
+and skeptics. The Philosopher and I took it quite in good part, for
+nothing could be more settled than the unimpassioned character of our
+old friendship--as there could be nothing more satisfactory.
+
+We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past
+Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle
+and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us.
+I turned to the Philosopher.
+
+"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed
+interestedly that way.
+
+As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been
+turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening
+coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality,
+and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The
+Professor--eighteen years Dahlia's senior, but one of the best men who
+ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered--turned and
+scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling
+recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia
+continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time
+with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear,
+though he did not again turn toward us.
+
+As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we
+fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them
+somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of
+dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair
+seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's
+luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly
+that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in
+itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with----
+
+The Skeptic leaned forward again.
+
+"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a flirtation with her to-night, if
+I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper.
+
+"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled.
+
+"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn
+tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade
+later than his. If I were only sitting next her!"
+
+At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to
+the seats immediately beyond our friends. As the Professor and Dahlia
+stood up to let them through, we saw that though the newcomers passed
+the Professor without recognition, the young man exchanged greetings
+with Dahlia. As they took their seats the man, a floridly handsome
+person, was at Dahlia's elbow.
+
+For the third time the Skeptic leaned forward. "It's just as well,
+perhaps," he whispered, "that my observations are to be made upon a
+proxy. What do you think the new chap's chances are for fun on both
+sides of him?"
+
+I did not condescend to answer. And without further delay the famous
+conductor of a famous orchestra came commandingly to the front of the
+stage, welcomed by an outburst of applause, and with the rest of the
+audience we became silent.
+
+But amidst all the delights of the ear which were ours that evening, the
+eyes of all of us would wander, from time to time, across the aisle. The
+Professor sat, with arms folded and head bent, drinking in the beauties
+of sound which beat against his welcoming ears. Next him, Dahlia, the
+bride of three days, was vindicating the Skeptic's opinion of her
+undiminished accomplishments. The young man upon her right proved an
+able second. The girl on his other side, by the time the concert was
+half over, was holding her head high, or bending it to study a programme
+which I am sure she did not see, while her companion played Dahlia's old
+game with a trained hand.
+
+"Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" breathed the Philosopher in my ear,
+during an intermission.
+
+"I'm afraid not," I assented dubiously. "But, of course, she may make a
+devoted wife, nevertheless. That sort of thing doesn't mean anything to
+her, you know. She merely does it as a matter of habit."
+
+"It can't be precisely an endearing habit to a husband," protested the
+Philosopher. "If she would address a remark now and then to the poor man
+at her left one might excuse her. And if she could carry on a
+conversation with the other one in an ordinarily well-bred, friendly
+way--and confine it to the intervals between numbers--one might be able
+to forget her, which would be a relief. But all those silly tricks of
+hers--those smiles, those archings of the neck--those lengthy looks up
+into the eyes of that fool----"
+
+"Don't look at them," I advised.
+
+"I can't help looking at them. Everybody else is looking at
+them--including yourself."
+
+It was quite true--everybody was, even people considerably out of range.
+If Dahlia herself was conscious of this--and I'm sure she must have
+been--she probably ascribed it to the charm of her appearance. She is
+even prettier than she used to be. But, as we were wont to say of her
+when we had owned to all her attractiveness--"if only!"
+
+"After all," urged Hepatica, on the homeward way, "we've no right to
+judge by seeing them under those conditions. Wait till we've had them
+alone with us. Dahlia told me on the way out that they were planning to
+come and see us very soon.--I suggested to-morrow night, so they will
+come then."
+
+"I'll be there," accepted the Philosopher--quite before he was asked.
+
+So on the following evening we saw them, alone with ourselves. The dear
+Professor seemed to us, more than before, the pitiable victim of a woman
+in every way unsuited to him. Yet he looked at Dahlia as if he cared for
+her very much, and was only a trifle bewildered by her manner with other
+men.
+
+"What dear times we used to have on the river!" said Dahlia to the
+Philosopher, at a moment when nobody else happened to be speaking. She
+accompanied this observation by a glance. It was Dahlia's glances which
+gave life to her remarks.
+
+"I haven't fished in that river for three summers," replied the
+Philosopher, in his most unsentimental tone.
+
+"You used to have better luck when you went alone," said Dahlia. "Do
+you remember how we could never stop talking long enough to lure any
+fish our way?"
+
+"Nevertheless, there has been considerable fishing done on that river,
+first and last," asserted the Skeptic, with a twinkle at the
+Philosopher, who looked uncomfortable. The Professor's gentle gaze was
+fixed upon each speaker in turn, and as he now waited upon the
+Philosopher's reply I saw the latter person frown slightly.
+
+"I never considered the fishing on that river very good," said he.
+
+"Oh, it didn't need to be," cried Dahlia. "I can shut my eyes now and
+see the water rippling in the moonlight! Can't you?" She appealed to
+the Skeptic.
+
+"I can't," said the Skeptic. "I never noticed how it rippled in the
+moonlight. The big porch is my favourite haunt at the Farm. The smoking
+is good there--keeps away the midges."
+
+"Midges!" Dahlia gave a little shriek. "There aren't any midges in that
+part of the country."
+
+"There are some kinds of little, annoying insects that come around in
+the evening, then," persisted the Skeptic, "just when people want to
+settle down and have themselves to themselves. The Philosopher was
+always more annoyed by them than I. He has a sensitive skin."
+
+Once started on this sort of allusive nonsense it was difficult for us
+to head off the Skeptic. But presently, noting the Professor's kindly
+face assuming a puzzled expression as he watched his wife's kittenish
+demeanour, the Skeptic desisted. It did not seem necessary for him to
+demonstrate to us that, quite as of old, he could attract Dahlia to his
+side and keep her there. Before the evening was over he found himself
+occupied--also quite as of old--with keeping out of her way. Altogether,
+it was certainly not Dahlia's fault if the Professor did not gain the
+impression that both the Skeptic and the Philosopher were rejected
+suitors of her own.
+
+When they had gone, and the door had closed upon the last of the bride's
+backward looks at our two men, the Skeptic dropped into a chair.
+
+"Hepatica, will you kindly mix a few drops of soothing syrup for me?"
+he requested.
+
+But the Philosopher fell to marching up and down, his hands in his
+pockets, and a deeper gloom on his brow than we had ever seen there.
+Although a decade the Philosopher's elder, the Professor had long
+shared bachelor quarters with him in past days; it had been only
+within a year or two that the necessities of their occupations had
+caused them to separate.
+
+"Why did I ever let him go off by himself?" the Philosopher muttered
+remorsefully. "Why didn't I keep an eye on him?"
+
+"It would have made no difference," the Skeptic offered dismally as
+consolation. "'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad!' You
+couldn't have prevented his madness."
+
+"I could have seen to it that such deadly instruments as marriage
+licences and irresponsible clergymen were kept out of his way," groaned
+the Philosopher.
+
+"Come, cheer up!" cried Hepatica, making haste to light the spirit-lamp
+under her tea-kettle. "I'm going to brew you all a cup of comfort with
+lemons and sugar and things."
+
+"Look at her!" commanded the Skeptic, rallying, "and tell me if marriage
+is a failure."
+
+The Philosopher paused. "You know well enough what I think of your
+marriage," he owned.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CAMELLIA AND THE JUDGE
+
+    I am ashamed that women are so simple
+    To offer war when they should kneel for peace.
+    --_Taming of the Shrew._
+
+
+"We are invited to spend the week-end with Camellia," announced my
+hostess at the breakfast-table one morning, glancing up from a note
+which the hall-boy had just brought to the door.
+
+The Skeptic jumped in his chair. "Those same old sensations come over
+me," he announced, digging away vengefully at his grapefruit. "What have
+I to wear? My only consolation now is that Camellia married a man who
+cares about as much what he wears as I do."
+
+"It's not Camellia's clothes that bother me now," said Hepatica
+thoughtfully, "so much as the formality of her style of entertaining.
+My dear, she has a butler."
+
+"How horrible!" I agreed. "Can I hope to please the eye of the butler?"
+
+"Camellia's husband is a downright good fellow," said the Skeptic
+warmly. "The fuss and feathers of his wife's hospitality can't
+prevent his giving you the real thing. Even Philo likes to go
+there--particularly when Camellia is away. I presume Philo's
+invited now?"
+
+"So she says," assented Hepatica, studying her note again, with a care
+not to look at me which made me quite as self-conscious as if she had.
+Why the dear people will all persist in thinking things which do not
+exist! Of course I was glad the Philosopher was to be there. What
+enjoyment is not the keener for his friendly sharing of it? But what of
+that? Has it not been so for many years?--and will be so, I trust, for
+all to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hepatica and I packed with care, selecting the most expensive things we
+owned. Hepatica scrutinized the Skeptic's linen critically before she
+put it in. When we departed we were as correctly attired as time and
+thought could make us. When we arrived we were doubly glad that this
+was so, for the sight of the butler, admitting us, gave us much the same
+feeling of being badly dressed that Camellia's own presence had been
+wont to do.
+
+Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever, but she looked
+considerably older than I had expected. I wondered if constant
+engagements with her tailor and dressmaker, to say nothing of incessant
+interviews with those who see to the mechanism of formal entertaining,
+had not begun to wear upon her. But she was very cordial with us, and
+her husband, the Judge, was equally so. He was considerably her
+senior--quite as much so, I decided, as the Professor was Dahlia's--but
+on account of Camellia's woman-of-the-world air the contrast was not so
+pronounced.
+
+We sat through an elaborate dinner, during which I suffered more or less
+strain of anxiety concerning my forks. But the Judge, at whose right
+hand I sat, diverted me so successfully by means of his own most
+interesting personality and delightful powers of conversation, that in
+time I forgot both forks and butler, and was only conscious of the
+length of the dinner by the sense, toward its close, of having had more
+to eat than I wanted.
+
+[Illustration: "Camellia herself was as exquisitely arrayed as ever"]
+
+"They have this sort of thing every night of their unfortunate lives,
+to a greater or less degree," murmured the Skeptic in my ear, as the men
+came into the impressively decorated room where Camellia and Hepatica
+and I were talking over common memories. "The gladdest man to get into
+his summer camp in Maine is the Judge, and the life of absolute abandon
+to freedom he lives there ought to teach his wife a thing or two--if she
+were wise enough to heed it. Why two people--but I've just eaten their
+salt," he acknowledged in reply to what I suppose must have been my
+accusing look, and forbore to say more.
+
+"I think I'll give a little dinner for you to-morrow night," said
+Camellia reflectively, as we sat about. "A very informal one, of
+course--just some of our neighbours."
+
+I felt my spirits drop. I saw those of Hepatica and the Skeptic and the
+Philosopher drop, although they made haste to prop their countenances
+up again.
+
+But the Judge protested. "Why give anything, my dear?" he questioned. "I
+doubt if our friends would prefer meeting our neighbours, whom they
+don't know, to visiting with ourselves, whom they do--however egotistic
+that may sound."
+
+"I want to make things gay for you," explained Camellia; "and the
+Latimers and the Elliots are very gay."--The Judge only lifted his
+handsome eyebrows.--"And the Liscombes are lovely," went on Camellia.
+"Mrs. Liscombe sings."
+
+The Judge ran his hand through the thick, slightly graying locks above
+his broad forehead. He did not need to tell us that he did not enjoy
+hearing Mrs. Liscombe sing, and doubted if we should.
+
+"Harry Hodgson recites--we always have him when we want to make things
+go. Oh, he's not a professional, of course. He only gives readings among
+his special friends. I believe I'll run and telephone him now. He's so
+likely to have engagements." Camellia hastened away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We could hardly tell the Judge we fully agreed with his feeling about
+to-morrow's proposed festivities, neither could we discuss his wife's
+tastes with him. He and we talked of other things until Camellia came
+back, having made her engagement with Mr. Harry Hodgson, and so having
+sealed our fate for the succeeding evening.
+
+The Skeptic and the Philosopher spent much of the following day--it was
+a legal holiday--with the Judge in his private den up on the third
+floor. This, as Camellia showed us once when the men were away, was a
+big, bare room--this was her characterization--principally fireplace,
+easy-chairs, books and windows. I liked it better than any other place
+in the house, for it was unencumbered with useless furniture of any
+sort, and the view from its windows was much finer than that from
+below stairs.
+
+"But we're not invited up here, you observe," was Camellia's comment. "I
+don't come into it once a month. The Judge spends his evenings
+here--when I don't actually force him to go out with me--and I spend
+mine down in the pleasanter quarters. I have the Liscombes and the
+Latimers in very often, but he never comes down if he can avoid it. They
+understand he's eccentric, and we let it go at that."
+
+She spoke with the air of being a most kindly and forbearing wife.
+I followed her downstairs, pondering over points of view.
+Eccentric--because he preferred wide fires and elbow-room and
+outlook to Camellia's crowded and over-decorated rooms below, and
+his books to Mrs. Liscombe's music and Mr. Harry Hodgson's "readings."
+I felt that I knew Mrs. Liscombe and Mr. Hodgson and the rest quite
+without having seen them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I found, the next evening, that my imagination had not gone far astray.
+Camellia's friends were certainly quite as "gay" as she had pictured
+them, and gorgeously dressed. I felt, as I attempted to maintain my part
+among them, like a country mouse suddenly precipitated into the society
+of a company of town-bred squirrels.
+
+Mrs. Liscombe sang for us. I could not make out what it was she sang,
+being unfamiliar with the music and unable to understand the words. She
+possessed a voice of some beauty, but was evidently determined to be
+classed among the sopranos who are able to soar highest, and when she
+took certain notes I experienced a peculiar and most disagreeable
+sensation in the back of my neck.
+
+"I wonder if we couldn't bring in a stepladder for her," murmured the
+Skeptic in my ear. "It gives me a pang to see a woman, alone and
+unassisted, attempt to reach something several feet above her head!"
+
+Mr. Hodgson recited for us with great fervour. He fought a battle on the
+drawing-room floor, fought and bled and died, all in a harrowing tenor
+voice. He was slender and pale, and it seemed a pity that he should have
+to suffer so much with so many stalwart men at hand. From the first
+moment, when he drew his sword and leaped into the fray, our sympathies
+were with him, although he personified a doughty man of battles, and led
+ten thousand lusty followers. There were moments when one could not
+quite forget the swinging coat-tails of his evening attire, but on the
+whole he was an interesting study, and I was much diverted.
+
+"Dear little fellow!"--it was the Skeptic again. "How came they to let
+him go to war--and he so young and tender?"
+
+I exchanged observations with Mr. Hodgson after his final reading; I
+can hardly say that I conversed with him, for our patchwork interview
+could not deserve that name. At the same time I noted with interest the
+Philosopher's expression as he and Mrs. Liscombe turned over a pile of
+music. If I had not known him so well I should have been deceived by
+that grave and interested air of his--a slight frown of concentrated
+attention between his well-marked eyebrows--into thinking him deeply
+impressed by the lady's dicta and by her somewhat dashing manner as she
+delivered them. But, familiar of old with the quizzical expression which
+at times could be discovered to underlie the exterior of charmed
+absorption, I understood that the Philosopher was quietly and skilfully
+classifying a new, if not a rare, specimen.
+
+When the guests had lingeringly departed I saw, as I went to my room,
+three male forms leaping up the second flight of stairs toward the
+Judge's den.
+
+"Don't you envy them the chance to soothe their nerves with a pipe
+beside the fire up there?" I asked Hepatica as, with hair down and
+trailing, loose garments, she came into my room through the door which
+we had discovered could be opened between our quarters.
+
+"Indeed I do. They went up those stairs like three dogs loosed from the
+leash, didn't they? Can one blame them?"
+
+"One cannot."
+
+Hepatica gazed at me. I stared back. But we were under our host's roof.
+
+"Mrs. Liscombe really has quite a voice," said Hepatica, examining the
+details of the tiny travelling workbag I always carry with me.
+
+"So she has."
+
+"It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it?"
+
+"It was, indeed. Would you mind having quite specially simple things to
+eat for a day or two after we go back?"
+
+"I've been planning them," admitted Hepatica.
+
+"Mr. Hodgson's readings were--entirely new to me; were they to you? I
+had never heard of the authors."
+
+"Few people can have heard of them, I think. Several were original."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Would you mind taking off your society manner?" requested Hepatica, a
+trifle fractiously. "I'm a little tired of seeing you wear it so
+incessantly."
+
+"I shall be delighted," I agreed.
+
+I sprang up and she met me half-way, and seizing me about the neck
+buried her face in my shoulder. I felt her shaking with smothered
+laughter, and had great difficulty in keeping my own emotions under
+control.
+
+We went home on Sunday afternoon, the Skeptic pleading the necessity of
+his being up at an early hour next morning. By unanimous consent we went
+to the evening service of a church where one goes to hear that which is
+worth hearing, and invariably hears it. The music there is also worth a
+long journey, though it is not at all of an elaborate sort.
+
+"There, I feel better after that," declared the Skeptic heartily, as we
+came out. "It seems to take the taste of last evening out of my mouth."
+
+Nobody said anything directly about our late visit until we had reached
+home. Then the Skeptic fired up his diminutive gas grate--which is much
+better than none at all--and turned off the electrics. We sat before
+the cheery little glow, luxuriating in a sense of relaxation.
+
+"It seems ungracious, somehow to discuss people, when one has just left
+their hospitality," suggested Hepatica, as the Skeptic showed signs of
+letting loose the dogs of war.
+
+"Not between ourselves, dear," affirmed the Skeptic. "We four constitute
+a private Court of Inquiry into the Condition of Our Friends. When I
+think of the Judge----"
+
+"He has his own way, after all, when it comes to refusing to join in the
+sort of thing that pleases Camellia," said I.
+
+"Of course he does. He's too much of a man not to have it. But living
+upstairs while my wife lives downstairs isn't precisely my ideal of
+married happiness."
+
+The Philosopher shoved his hands far down into his pockets and laid his
+head back, gazing up at the ceiling. "What puzzles me," he mused, "is
+the attraction such a woman has, at the start, for such a man."
+
+"Camellia was a most attractive girl," said I.
+
+"You mean her clothes were most attractive," amended the Skeptic. "They
+even befuddled me for a few brief hours, as I remember--till I
+discovered that not all is gold that----"
+
+"You didn't discover that yourself," the Philosopher reminded him. "We
+had to do it for you. You don't mind our recalling his temporary
+paralysis of intellect?" he questioned Hepatica suddenly. "It was all
+your fault, anyhow, for retiring to the background and allowing the
+fireworks to have full play."
+
+Hepatica smiled. The Skeptic put out his hand and got hold of hers and
+drew it over to his knee, where he retained it. "She knows I never
+swerved a point off my allegiance to her," he declared with confidence.
+
+"Do you suppose," suggested Hepatica, "if the Judge and Camellia were to
+lose all their money and had to come down to living in a little home
+like this, it would help things any?"
+
+The Skeptic shook his head. The Philosopher shook his, thoughtfully.
+"It's too late," said the latter. "Her ideals are a fixed quantity now,
+to be reckoned with. So are his. Under any conditions there would be
+absolute diversity of tastes."
+
+"I don't think there's any ideal more hopelessly fixed than the fine
+clothes ideal." The Skeptic looked at his wife.
+
+"I like nice clothes," said she, smiling at him.
+
+"So you do," he rejoined; "thank heaven! A woman who doesn't is
+abnormal. But when we walk down certain streets together you can see
+something besides the shop-windows."
+
+"I look away so I won't want the things," confessed Hepatica.
+
+The Skeptic laughed, and the Philosopher and I joined him.
+
+"I passed Mrs. Hepatica the other day when she didn't see me," said the
+Philosopher to me. "She was staring fixedly in at a shop-window. I stole
+up behind her to see what held such an attraction for her.--It often
+lets a great light in on a friend's character, if you can see the
+particular object in a shop-window which fixes his longing attention.
+When I had discovered what she was looking at I stole away again,
+chuckling to myself."
+
+"What was it?" I asked.
+
+"I'll wager half I own that the wife of our friend the Judge wouldn't
+have given that window a second glance," pursued the Philosopher.
+
+"It was probably a bargain sale of paper patterns," guessed the Skeptic.
+But we knew he didn't think it.
+
+"A bargain sale of groceries, more likely," said Hepatica herself.
+
+"It was no bargain sale of anything," denied the Philosopher. "It was a
+most expensive edition of the works of Charles Dickens."
+
+"Good for you, Patty!" cried the Skeptic.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+AZALEA AND THE CASHIER
+
+    A mother is a mother still,
+      The holiest thing alive.
+    --_S. T. Coleridge._
+
+
+"I am to spend the day with Azalea to-morrow," I announced, as I said
+good night, one evening, "and I shall not come back until so late that
+you mustn't sit up for me. Azalea couldn't ask me to stay all night, on
+account of using the guest-room for a nursery during the winter, but
+she's very anxious to have me there in the evening, for it's the only
+chance I shall have to see her husband."
+
+"Remain late enough to see her husband, by all means," urged the
+Skeptic. "I want to hear what sort of man had the courage to marry a
+musical genius who could wipe only one teaspoon at a time."
+
+"Azalea was a lovely girl," said Hepatica warmly. "It couldn't take much
+courage to marry her."
+
+"All right--we'll hear about it when our guest comes back. And I'll be
+over to bring you home, if you'll telephone about an hour before you'll
+be ready to start."
+
+"Thank you--it really won't be necessary for you to come," I replied.
+
+The Skeptic eyed me narrowly. Then he glanced at Hepatica and grinned.
+"Good night," said I, again, and walked away to my room.
+
+"Good night," the Skeptic called after me. "But don't hesitate to call
+me if anything should detain Philo."
+
+I arrived at Azalea's home early next morning, having been earnestly
+asked to come in time to see the babies take their bath. There is
+nothing I like better than to see a baby take a bath, and to see two at
+once was a bribe indeed.
+
+Azalea met me at the door of her suburban home, the larger of her two
+children--the two-year-old--on her arm. He was evidently just ready for
+his bath, for he was wrapped in a blanket, and one pink foot stuck
+temptingly out from its folds. Azalea greeted me with enthusiasm,
+pushing back the loose, curling locks from her forehead as she did so,
+explaining that Bud had just pulled them down. She did not look in the
+least like the girl who had sung for us, but it occurred to me that,
+enveloped in the big flannel bath-apron, she was even more engaging than
+she had been upon the porch at the Farm.
+
+I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as I enjoyed seeing
+Azalea give that bath. The little baby was asleep in her crib when we
+went into the nursery--which had been the guest-room before the second
+baby came--so Azalea gave Bud his splash all by himself. He was plump
+and dimpled and jolly, and he cried only once--when his mother
+inadvertently rubbed soap in his eyes while talking with me. When he
+smiled again he was a cherub of cherubs, but he had waked his small
+sister, and Azalea gave me permission to take her up while she finished
+with Bud. She was six months old, and she was afraid of me only for a
+minute or two, and I held her and cuddled her and wanted to take her
+away with me so fiercely that I had all I could do to give her over to
+Azalea for her bath. Boy babies are delightful, but girl babies are
+heavenly!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had a busy day--made up of babies, with more or less talk between,
+which didn't matter in the least. Late in the afternoon Azalea put
+everything straight in the rooms, more or less upset by Bud during the
+day; and dressed herself for the evening. She dressed both children,
+also, making them fresh as rosebuds. I saw her putting flowers on the
+table in the dining-room, lighting a special reading-lamp at a table in
+the corner of the living-room, and pulling an easy chair to stand close
+beside it. There was a small grand piano in the room. It had been closed
+all day, for Bud's fingers could just reach the keyboard. Azalea opened
+it.
+
+"You haven't had time to-day," said I, "but I'm looking forward to
+hearing you sing this evening."
+
+"It's my husband you are to hear sing," said Azalea contentedly. "He has
+a splendid voice."
+
+"I shall be delighted," I agreed; "but surely you will sing too."
+
+"My voice seems to wake up the children," said she, "Arthur's never
+does. It's odd, for his voice is much heavier, of course. But I can
+never take really high notes without hearing a wail from either Bud or
+Dot. And that's not worth while."
+
+"Won't you sing now, then," I begged, "while they are awake? I really
+can't go away without hearing you. And you know when the Philosopher
+comes he will be so anxious to have you sing."
+
+"The babies will go to bed before dinner," she insisted, "so I can't
+very well sing for the Philosopher. But I'll sing for you now, of
+course."
+
+She laid little Dot in my lap, but Dot was already sleepy and protested.
+So Azalea went to the piano with Dot on her arm. Bud, seeing her go,
+followed and stood by her knee--on her trailing skirts. I don't know how
+she managed to play her own accompaniment, but she did--at least subdued
+chords enough to carry the harmony of the song. There were no notes
+before her on the rack, and she looked down into one or the other of the
+two small faces as she sang. And, of course, it was a lullaby which
+fell like notes of pearl and silver from her lips.
+
+When she finished, I could only smile at her through an obscuring mist.
+Never, in all the times I had heard her sing, had she reached my heart
+like this. But, somehow, the picture of her, sitting in the half light
+at the grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee, singing
+lullabies and leaving the fine music for her husband to sing by and by,
+was quite irresistible. Somehow, as I listened, I was troubled by no
+doubts lest she had not learned deftly to wipe ten teaspoons at once.
+
+Her husband came home presently; a tall, thin, young bank cashier, with
+a face I liked at once. He was plainly weary, but his eyes lit up with
+satisfaction at sight of the three who met him at the door, and the
+welcome his young son gave him showed that Bud recognized a play-fellow.
+I heard the pair romping upstairs as the Cashier made dressing for
+dinner a game in which the little child could join.
+
+[Illustration: "The picture of her, sitting in the half light at the
+grand piano, with the babies in her arms and at her knee ... was quite
+irresistible"]
+
+But before we sat down to dinner both babies had been put to bed. The
+Cashier remained with me while Azalea was busy at this task, but he
+excused himself toward the last, and went tiptoeing upstairs, where I
+think he must have offered his services in getting the children tucked
+away. While he was gone the Philosopher arrived.
+
+I let him in myself, motioning the maid away. It was a small house, and
+I knew she was needed in the kitchen. "Don't make a bit of noise," I
+cautioned him, as he came smiling into the little hall. "The babies are
+going to bed."
+
+"Babies!" whispered the Philosopher, in an awestruck way. "I didn't know
+there were any babies."
+
+"Of course you knew it," I whispered back, leading him into the room.
+"If you would only store away really important facts in that capacious
+mind of yours, instead of limiting it to----"
+
+"Tell me how many babies, and of what sex--quick!" commanded the
+Philosopher, "or I shall say the wrong thing. And how on earth do they
+come to know enough to put their babies to bed before they ask a
+bachelor to dine, anyhow?"
+
+I hastily set him straight upon these points, adding that Azalea had
+developed wonderfully.
+
+"You mean she can soar to high Q now, I suppose?" interpreted the
+Philosopher.
+
+"Not at all. I mean that she's----"
+
+But they were coming downstairs together. The Cashier's arm was about
+his wife's shoulders; he removed it only just in time to save his
+dignity as he entered.
+
+"I'm disappointed not to see the boy and girl," declared the Philosopher
+genially. The Cashier took him by the shoulders and turned him toward
+the light, laughing. "That was bravely said," he answered. "How did you
+know but we might go and wake them up for you to see?"
+
+The dinner was quite unpretentious, but very good. Evidently Azalea had
+a capable servant. We talked gaily, the Cashier proving an adept at
+keeping the ball in the air, and keenly appreciative of others' attempts
+to meet him at the sport.
+
+By and by, when we were back in the room where the grand piano stood,
+and conversation had reached a momentary halt, Azalea went to the piano.
+"Come, Arthur," she said, sitting down at it and patting a pile of
+music, "I want our friends to hear 'The Toreador.'"
+
+The Cashier looked up protestingly. "You are the one they want to hear,
+dear," he declared.
+
+She shook her head. "They've heard me often, but never you, I think.
+Besides, it wakes the babies, you know, for me to sing."
+
+"You don't need to sing high notes, Azalea," I urged. "I'd like nothing
+so well as the lullaby you sang to the babies."
+
+But she shook her head again. "That's their song," she said. "You were
+specially privileged to hear it at all. But I can't do it for company.
+Come, Arthur--please."
+
+So the Cashier sang. The Philosopher and I found it necessary to avoid
+each other's eyes as he did it. The Cashier could roar 'The Toreador,'
+no doubt of that. The voice of the bull of Bashan would have been as the
+summer wind in the trees beside it. Where so much volume came from we
+could not tell, as we looked at the thin frame of the performer. Why the
+babies did not wake up will ever remain a mystery. Why Azalea did not
+desert her accompaniment to press her hands over bursting ear drums I
+cannot imagine, for it was with difficulty that I surrendered my own to
+the shock. But Azalea played on to the end, and looked up into the
+Cashier's flushed face at the last note with a smile of proprietary
+triumph. Then she turned about to us.
+
+"That fairly takes me off my feet!" cried the Philosopher. I groped
+hurriedly for a compliment which would match the equivocal fervour of
+this, but I could not equal it.
+
+"How much you must enjoy singing together," I said, "when the babies are
+awake,"--and felt annoyed that I could have said it, for I could really
+not imagine the two voices together.
+
+Azalea glowed. The Cashier grinned. He is as quick-witted as he is
+good-humoured. "You're a clever pair," he chuckled.
+
+"I've trained him myself," said Azalea. "When I knew him first he'd
+never thought of singing. I only discovered his voice by accident. It
+needs much more work with it, of course, but it's powerful, and it has a
+quality that will improve with cultivation."
+
+The Cashier patted her shoulders. "Now you sing some soft little thing
+for them, my girl," he commanded--and looking up at him again, Azalea
+obeyed. She chose an old ballad, one with no chance in it to show the
+range of her voice. She sang it exquisitely, and the Cashier stood by
+and turned her music as if he considered it a high privilege. Yet,
+half-way through, the little Dot woke up. Azalea broke off in the middle
+of a bar, and fled up the stairs.
+
+"The truth is, I'm afraid," said the Cashier, looking after her with an
+expression on his face which indicated that he wanted to flee, too,
+"nothing really counts in this house but the babies."
+
+"They--and something else," suggested the Philosopher gently.
+
+The Cashier looked at him. He nodded. "Yes--and something else," he
+agreed with his bright smile.
+
+We came away rather late. The Philosopher looked up at the house as the
+door closed upon the warm farewells which had sent us out into the
+night. "It's a little bit of a house, isn't it?" he commented.
+
+I looked up, too--at the nursery windows where the faintest of
+night-lights showed. "Yes, it's very small," I agreed. "Yet quite big
+enough, although it holds so much."
+
+"One would hardly have said, four years ago, that anything smaller than
+the biggest musical auditorium in the city would have been big enough to
+hold Azalea's voice," he mused.
+
+"If you could have heard her sing her lullaby to those babies," I
+replied, as we walked slowly on, "you would have said her voice would be
+wasted on a concert audience."
+
+"It seems a pleasant home."
+
+"It _is_ one."
+
+"Somehow, one distrusts the ability of musical prodigies to make
+pleasant homes."
+
+"I wonder why. Shouldn't the knowledge of any art make one appreciative
+of other arts?"
+
+"It took some time for a certain exhibition of the domestic art to
+strike in, at your home, that summer," said the Philosopher. "But I
+believe Azalea came to envy our Hepatica at the last, didn't she?"
+
+"Indeed she did. And she's never got over envying her her
+accomplishments. She asked me ever so many questions to-day about
+Hepatica's housekeeping. I wish I had had a chance before I went to tell
+her that I was sure her will to succeed would make her home as dear a
+one as even Hepatica's could be."
+
+"One thing is sure--as long as she lets the Cashier do the singing in
+the limelight, while she looks after the babies, there'll be no occasion
+for their friends to demand more music of an evening than is good for
+her pride of spirit," chuckled the Philosopher. "What--are we at our
+station already? I say--let's not make a quick trip by train--let's make
+a slow one, by cab."
+
+"By cab! It would take two hours! No, no--here comes our train."
+
+"This is the first time we've gone anywhere since you've been here
+without two alert chaperons--younger than myself," grumbled the
+Philosopher.
+
+"The more reason, then, that we should give them no anxiety on my
+account."
+
+"I'd like to walk the whole way," said he.
+
+I laughed as I obeyed the signal of an impatient guard and rushed upon
+the train. "Now, talk to me," said I, as we took our seats.
+
+"My lungs weren't built for the Toreador song," he objected.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ALTHEA AND THE PROMOTER
+
+     What an interesting fellow our host is! He is almost more
+     interesting because of the qualities he does not possess, than
+     because of the qualities that he does possess.
+     --_Arthur Christopher Benson._
+
+
+"'_Be it ever so humble_,'" quoted the Skeptic under his breath to me,
+"'_there's no place like_----'"
+
+Hepatica turned and gave him a smiling look which nevertheless conveyed
+warning. He needed it. The Skeptic was in a mad and merry mood to-night,
+and no glance shot at him which, being interpreted, meant that we were
+under our hosts' roof, had thus far been of avail. "We are not under
+their roof," he argued defiantly, in reply to one of these silent
+remonstrances. "This isn't their roof. This is the roof of the Hotel
+Amazon. That's a very different thing. So different that if I lived
+under it I'd----"
+
+But the Promoter was approaching us again, with the news that dinner
+had just been announced as served. He immediately led the way with me,
+Hepatica followed with the Philosopher, and Althea and the Skeptic
+brought up the rear. It was on the great staircase that the Skeptic,
+pausing to gaze upward, at a command from the Promoter, who had just bid
+him observe certain mural decorations done by the distinguished hand of
+some man of whom I fear none of us had ever heard, murmured the
+well-known words concerning the humble home.
+
+"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I
+had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect
+from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?"
+
+We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The
+Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene
+with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder
+dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving
+line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an
+apostrophe on the magnificence before him which would have alienated
+Althea and her husband forevermore.
+
+"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the
+Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name,
+and I think none of us were able to recognize it.
+
+"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It
+seems stout."
+
+"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added
+the Promoter.
+
+"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the
+Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.
+
+In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing
+an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening
+finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining
+hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the
+first impression sink in.
+
+"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of
+course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy
+this better. There's nothing like it anywhere. It's absolutely
+cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here
+to-night--are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice
+the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the
+iron magnate. With his party is a French actress--worshipped on both
+sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled."
+
+A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our
+places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive
+orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then
+raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I
+suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither
+of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.
+
+The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and
+puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat
+and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns
+the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of
+being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining
+under such auspices.
+
+Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The
+Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the
+time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her
+simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink,
+embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea
+devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on
+very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic was saying things into my ear, under
+cover of the orchestra and the loud hum of talk.
+
+"This is a crowd," he commented. "This certainly is a crowd! Men of
+millions, and men who don't know how they're going to meet the next note
+due, but bluffing it through. Somebodies and nobodies. Kingfish and
+minnows--and some of the kingfish are going to swallow the minnows at
+the next gulp----What in the name of time is this we're eating now?"
+
+I expressed my ignorance.
+
+"And what's this we're to have with it?" he pursued. "Look out!"
+
+He had known I would thank him for the warning. I shielded my glass from
+an imminent bottle. It was the third time already, and the dinner was
+not far on its way. I saw Hepatica shield hers--also for the third time.
+A tiny flush was beginning to creep up Althea's cheeks. She had refused
+only the first offering of the waiter.
+
+The Promoter turned and viewed my empty glasses with ill-disguised
+contempt. "We'll have to get you to stay in town long enough to overcome
+those notions of yours," said he. "Look around you. I'll wager there's
+not another in the room."
+
+If I flushed it was not for either of the reasons which caused the
+brilliant cheeks I saw all about me. "I think you are quite right," said
+I, as I looked. I saw a garrulous lady at the table on my right, whose
+high laughter was beginning to carry far; I observed a sleepy one at my
+left, who had spilled champagne down the front of her elaborate corsage
+and was nodding over her ices. I glanced at Hepatica. Her pretty head
+was held high; her eyes, too, sparkled, but not with wine.
+
+The Promoter began to talk of investments, telling stories of great
+_coups_ made by men who had the daring.
+
+"Not necessary for them to have the money, I suppose?" queried the
+Philosopher.
+
+"Not at all," agreed the Promoter. "Life's a game of poker. If you're
+not afraid to sit in, and have the nerve to bluff it through, you can
+win out with a hand that would make a quitter commit suicide."
+
+Althea listened with pride to her husband's discourse. "He's a man of
+the world," one could see she was thinking, "who is making the eyes drop
+out of the heads of these simple people."
+
+"I'm so impressed," said the Skeptic to me, "that I can hardly eat.
+Think of living in a place like this--having this every day--common,
+like the dust under your feet. Can I ever eat creamed codfish and
+johnny-cake again, think you? Hepatica must name the hash by a French
+name and serve me grape juice with it, or I can't condescend to eat it.
+I say--the smoke is getting a bit thick here for you ladies, isn't it?"
+
+We had been late in coming down, and at many tables people were nearing
+the end of the dinner. For some time the odour of expensive cigars had
+been growing heavier throughout the room; a blue haze hung over the more
+distant tables.
+
+"I don't think my lungs mind it so much as my feelings," I answered. "I
+shall never be able to make it seem to me just--just----"
+
+"Try to subdue the expression which dominates your countenance at the
+present moment," counselled the Skeptic gently, "or you will be quietly
+led away from the scene as dangerous to your fellow-men."
+
+After what seemed like many hours we reached the end of the dinner. I
+felt that I should be glad to reach the quiet and comparative purity of
+air to be found in the room in which our hosts had received us--a
+private drawing-room. But this was not to be. We were taken from place
+to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of
+entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness
+was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her
+carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes for
+our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of
+personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of
+hostelries like the Amazon.
+
+Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle
+silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company
+of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time
+to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision
+growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found
+myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic--but
+the Skeptic was incorrigible.
+
+"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to
+buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I
+have in my pocket. May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have
+to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request
+him to insert it in the slit for me?"
+
+The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he.
+"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe deep when they go by
+it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge."
+
+The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said
+he, "where it's more highly charged."
+
+At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many
+floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator,
+padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's
+eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the
+realization that some time we should be out and away together in the
+fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to
+see things from the Philosopher's point of view.
+
+We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic
+passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the
+wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly
+humming an air. It was, "_Be it ever so humble_," again.
+
+The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and
+sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire of gas-logs.
+There were a few--not many--apparently personal belongings about the
+rooms; _bric-a-brac_ and photographs--the latter mostly of actors and
+opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which
+reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few
+years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the
+effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me.
+She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless.
+
+We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales
+of the great strokes of business he had brought off--"deals," he called
+them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of
+revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we
+should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not
+guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular
+novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could
+I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish
+material for conversation. I tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a
+certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself
+comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud
+to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was
+not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set
+high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must,
+perforce--for he needs a strong light for reading--have stood close
+under one of the sconces to read from his book of essays. I tried to
+fancy Althea and the Promoter politely listening--or appearing to
+listen. This really drew too heavily upon my imagination, and I gave it
+up.
+
+At a late hour we escaped. I learned afterward that before we left the
+Promoter took our men aside and offered them one more thing to drink.
+This really seemed superfluous, and--judging by the straightforward gait
+of our escorts, to say nothing of my knowledge of their habits--there is
+no doubt that it was.
+
+Outside the hotel the Philosopher, looking away from it and from
+the other great buildings which surrounded us on every side, sent
+his gaze upward to the starry winter's sky. He drew in deep breaths
+of the frosty air.
+
+"Getting the Amazon out of your blood?" inquired the Skeptic. "Amazon's
+a mighty good name for it. It thinks it's sophisticated and refined--but
+it isn't. It's a great, blowsy, milkmaid of a hotel, with all her best
+clothes on, perpetually going to a fair."
+
+"I'm not so much re-filling my insulted lungs," said the Philosopher,
+"as drawing breaths of relief that I got away without buying a block of
+stock in something, or putting my name down to be one of a company for
+the development of something else."
+
+"Oh, we were safe enough," the Skeptic declared. "This was a private
+dinner with ladies present; the Promoter gave us only a delicate sample
+of what he could do. Wait till he gets you at luncheon with him in the
+grill-room, all by yourself--then you can find out what he is when he's
+after game. Unless you're tied to the mast, so to speak, with your ears
+stopped with wax, you'll land on the shore of the enchanted country he
+pictures for you. He's deadly, I assure you. That's why he can afford to
+live at the Amazon."
+
+"I wonder how Althea likes it?" speculated Hepatica.
+
+"Likes it down to the ground--and up to the roof," asserted the Skeptic.
+"That's plain enough. It saves housekeeping--and picking up her room,"
+he added softly to Hepatica--but I heard him. Hepatica did not reply.
+
+"Let's not stop at this station," proposed the Skeptic as we walked on,
+"but keep on up to the next. A fast walk will do us all good after that
+feast of porpoises."
+
+"I suppose they call that living," said the Philosopher, as we turned
+aside into quieter streets.
+
+"Of course they do, and so does everybody else at those tables
+to-night--with four exceptions."
+
+"Oh, come," demurred the Philosopher, "possibly there were a few other
+wise men in that company besides ourselves. Who would have known from
+your appearance as you sat there gorging with the rest, that you were
+inwardly protesting, and greatly preferred the simple life? Don't
+flatter yourself that you had the aspect of an ascetic. There were
+moments during that meal when any unprejudiced observer who didn't know
+you would have sworn that you were deeply gratified that no other
+engagement had prevented you from dining in your favourite haunt."
+
+"Don't throw stones," retorted the Skeptic. "I saw you when you caught
+sight of some particularly prosperous looking people at another table
+and bowed convivially to them as one who says, 'You here, too? Of
+course. Our set, you know!'"
+
+"Quits!" admitted the Philosopher. "Well then--it's the ladies who did
+succeed in looking like visitants from another world."
+
+This was rather poetical for the Philosopher, and of course it led us to
+wonder wherein he thought we differed. Hepatica asked anxiously if she
+really had looked so very old-fashioned in the white evening frock which
+had been three times made over.
+
+"Hopelessly old-fashioned," assented the Philosopher. "Hopelessly
+old-fashioned. But not so much in the matter of the frock as in some
+other things. Heaven forbid that it should be otherwise!"
+
+"Amen!" responded the Skeptic fervently.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+RHODORA AND THE PREACHER
+
+      When the fight begins within himself
+    A man's worth something.
+    --_Robert Browning._
+
+
+The Skeptic brought up the letter with him as he came home to dinner; it
+had arrived in the last mail. The Philosopher happened to be dining with
+us that night, so we four were together when the news came upon us. As
+Hepatica read it aloud we stared at one another, astonished.
+
+The letter was from Grandmother, inviting us to Rhodora's wedding, which
+was to take place under her roof. Rhodora herself had been practically
+under Grandmother's roof for four years now, except as she had been sent
+to a school of Grandmother's selection. Rhodora had no mother. Her
+father, an absorbed man of business, had, at Grandmother's suggestion,
+been glad to let her have the girl to bring up--or to finish bringing
+up--according to her own ideas. When we had first seen Rhodora there
+could be no question that she sadly needed bringing up by somebody. To
+that date she had, apparently, only come up by herself.
+
+"I, for one, have never seen her since that none-too-short visit she
+made you, that summer," said the Skeptic reminiscently. "It has never
+occurred to me to long to see her again. She was a mere lusty infant
+then. And now she's to be married. How time gets on! What did you say
+was the name of the unfortunate chap?"
+
+"'The Reverend Christopher Austen,'" re-read Hepatica from the letter.
+
+"He will need all the fortitude the practice of his profession can have
+developed in him, if my recollections can be depended upon to furnish a
+basis for the present outlook," said the Skeptic gloomily.
+
+"You don't know that he will, at all," I disputed. "Rhodora was only a
+girl when you saw her. She has been four years under Grandmother's
+influence since then. Can you imagine that has accomplished nothing?"
+
+The Skeptic shook his head. "That would be like a dove attempting the
+education of a hawk. The girl has probably learned not to break into the
+conversation of her elders with an axe," he speculated, "nor to walk
+ahead of Grandmother when she comes into a room. Any girl learns those
+things--in time--unless she is an idiot. But there are other things to
+learn. You can't make fine china out of coarse clay."
+
+"But you can make very, very beautiful pottery," cried Hepatica. "And
+the lump of clay that came into contact with Grandmother's wheel----"
+
+She paused. Metaphors are sometimes difficult things to handle. The
+Philosopher, musing, did not notice that she had not finished.
+
+"It's rather curious that I should be asked," he said. "I never saw
+either of them but once."
+
+"You made a great conquest on that one occasion, though," said the
+Skeptic.
+
+"Nonsense!" The Philosopher coloured like a boy. "That girl----"
+
+"Not that girl," explained the Skeptic. "The Old Lady. She has never
+ceased to ask after you whenever we have seen her or heard from her. As
+I remember, you presented her with a bunch of garden flowers as big as
+your head, and looked at her as if she were eighteen and the beauty she
+undoubtedly once was.--Well, well--a preacher! What has Rhodora become
+that she has blinded the eyes of a preacher? Not that their eyes are not
+easily blinded!"
+
+"Why do you say 'preacher?'" inquired his wife. "Grandmother's letter
+says a young clergyman."
+
+"He's no clergyman," insisted the Skeptic. "He's not even a minister.
+He's just a preacher--a raw youth, just out of college--knows as much
+about women as a puppy about elephant training. Rhodora probably sang a
+hymn at one of his meetings and finished him. Well, well--I suppose this
+means another wedding present?" He looked dubiously at Hepatica.
+
+"It does, of course," she admitted.
+
+"Send her a cut-glass punch-bowl," he suggested, preparing savagely to
+carve a plump, young duck. "Anything less adapted to the use of a
+preacher's family I can't conceive. And that's the main object in buying
+wedding gifts, according to my observation."
+
+The day of Rhodora's wedding arrived, and we went down together to
+Grandmother's lovely old country home--a stately house upon the banks of
+a wide, frozen river. Our train brought us there two hours before the
+one set for the ceremony, and we found not only Grandmother but Rhodora
+and the Preacher in the fine old-time drawing-room to greet us. The
+wedding was to be a quietly informal one, and such of the other guests
+as had already arrived were in the room also, having a cup of tea before
+they should go upstairs to dress.
+
+Rhodora herself was pouring the tea, and the Preacher was helping hand
+the cups about. It was a beautiful opportunity to observe the pair
+before their marriage.
+
+Grandmother gave us the welcome only Grandmother knows how to give. In
+her own home she looks like a fair, little, old queen, receiving
+everybody's homage, yet giving so much kindness in return that one can
+never feel one's self out of debt to her hospitality. Her greeting to
+the Philosopher was an especially cordial one.
+
+"I ventured to ask you," she said to him, "because I have always wanted
+to see you again--not merely because I have heard of you in the world
+where you are making a name for yourself. And I wanted, too, in justice
+to my granddaughter, to have you see her again."
+
+Before the Philosopher could formulate an appropriate reply, Rhodora
+herself, leaving her tea-table, and crossing the room with a swift and
+graceful tread, was giving us welcome.
+
+It was amusing to see our two men look at Rhodora. Hepatica and I had
+been, in a way, prepared to see a transformation, having heard sundry
+rumours to that effect; but the Skeptic and the Philosopher, having
+classified Rhodora once and for all, had since received no impression
+sufficient to efface or modify the original one. I can say for them that
+to one who did not know them well their surprise would have been
+undiscoverable, yet to Hepatica and me it was perfectly evident that
+they considered a miracle had been wrought.
+
+As to personal appearance, Rhodora had developed, as she had promised to
+do, into a remarkable beauty. If she had kept on as she had begun, she
+would have become one of those exuberant beauties who look as if they
+had but lately quitted the stage and must shortly return thither. Even
+yet, it would have taken but an error in dress, a reversion to a certain
+type of manner which too often goes with looks like these, to make of
+the girl that which it had seemed she must become. But, somehow, she had
+not become that thing.
+
+Rhodora presently turned and beckoned to the Preacher, and putting down
+his teacups he came to her side. She presented him, and we saw that he
+was, indeed, no clergyman, no minister even--in the sense that the
+Skeptic had differentiated these terms--but a preacher--and an embryo
+one at that--a big, red-cheeked, honest-eyed boy, a straightforward,
+clean-hearted, large-purposed young fellow, who meant to do all the good
+in the world, in all the ways that he could bring about. He was but
+lately graduated from his seminary, had yet to preach his first sermon
+after the dignities of his ordination, but--one could not tell how--one
+began to believe in him at once.
+
+"No, I haven't a bit of experience," he owned to me, as we stood talking
+together, getting acquainted. "Not a bit--except a little mission work a
+few of us went in for this last year. I'm as raw a recruit as ever put
+on a uniform and fell in with the rest of the company for his first
+drill. But--I mean to count one!"
+
+"I'm sure you will," said I, regarding him with growing pleasure in
+the sight.
+
+"And Rhodora will count two," said he, his eyes following her. "One and
+two, side by side, you know, stand for twelve."
+
+"So they do," said I. "And seeing Rhodora as she looks now, I should
+think she would make an efficient comrade."
+
+His face glowed. Together we observed Rhodora, standing close by
+Grandmother's side. The two, with Hepatica and our two men, made a
+group, of which not the bride-elect, but Grandmother, was the precise
+centre. The moment Rhodora had reached Grandmother's side she had put
+herself in the background. Although she towered above the little old
+lady she did not overwhelm her, and Grandmother herself had never seemed
+a more gently dominating figure than now, in her sweeping black gown
+with its rare laces, her white hair, in soft puffs, framing her delicate
+face. And as, at a turn in the conversation, Grandmother looked up at
+Rhodora, and Rhodora, bending a little, smiled back at her, answering in
+the most deferential way, it was clear to me that the most efficient
+element in the education of the girl had been her intercourse with this
+old-time gentlewoman.
+
+"It was seeing those two together," said the Preacher rather shyly, in
+my ear, "that attracted me first. I never knew that Youth and Age could
+set each other off like that till I saw them. And I saw at once that a
+girl who could be such friends with an old lady must be very much worth
+while herself. They are great chums, you know--it's quite unusual, I
+think. And it's a mighty fine thing for any one to know Grandmother.
+I've learned more from Grandmother than from any one I ever knew."
+
+"She's a very rare and adorable old lady," I agreed heartily. "We all
+worship her--we all feel that to be near her is a special fortune for
+any one. She has plainly grown very fond of Rhodora--she will miss her."
+
+"No doubt of that," he agreed--but, quite naturally, more with triumph
+than with sympathy.
+
+We went upstairs presently to make ready for the wedding. When we were
+dressed, we met, according to previous agreement, in the big, square,
+upper hall, with its spindled railing making a gallery about the quaint
+and stately staircase. It was a little too early to go down, and we drew
+some high-backed chairs together and sat down to look at one another in
+our wedding garments.
+
+"I'd like to get married myself again to-night," declared the Skeptic,
+forcibly pulling on his gloves with a man's brutal disregard for the
+possible instability of seams. He eyed his wife possessively. "Tell
+me--will the Preacher's bride put her in the shade?"
+
+"Don!" But Hepatica's falling lashes could not quite conceal her
+pleasure in his pride.
+
+"Not for a minute." The Philosopher's benevolent gaze approved of his
+friend's wife from the top of her masses of shining hair to the tip of
+her white-shod foot. "At the same time, I don't feel quite such a
+dispirited compassion for the Preacher himself as I did on the way down.
+Can that possibly be the same girl who treated Grandmother as if she
+were an inconvenient, antique family relic, and the rest of us as if she
+endured but was horribly bored by us?"
+
+"I have never supposed grandmothers," said the Skeptic thoughtfully, "to
+be particularly influential members of society. Evidently ours is
+different. But there must have been other elements in the metamorphosis
+of Rhodora."
+
+"Miss Eleanor Lockwood's school," suggested Hepatica.
+
+"You mention that with bated breath," said the Skeptic, "precisely as
+every one, including its graduates, mentions it. I admit that Miss
+Lockwood's school is a place where rich young savages are turned out
+polished members of society. But there's been more than that."
+
+"The Preacher himself?" I suggested.
+
+The Skeptic looked at me. "Do you mean to imply," said he, with raised
+eyebrows, "that any woman would admit the possibility of
+acquaintanceship with any particular man's having had a formative
+influence on her character? After school-days, I mean of course."
+
+"Why not?" I inquired. "What influence could be greater?"
+
+The Skeptic looked at the Philosopher, who returned his gaze calmly.
+
+"Did you ever expect to hear that?" asked the Skeptic.
+
+"I should not think of denying the influence of woman upon man," replied
+the Philosopher. "Why should not the rule work both ways?"
+
+"I never heard it thus flatly formulated before," declared the Skeptic.
+"It does me good, that's all. So you think the Preacher has had a hand
+in the reformation?"
+
+"You have seen the Preacher," said I. "You know the family from which
+he comes--he's of good stock. You've only to hear him speak to see
+that he's a man of purpose, of action, of training--boy as he looks.
+How could he fail to have a strong influence upon a girl who cared
+for him?"
+
+The Skeptic looked at Hepatica. "Do you agree with her?" he inquired.
+
+"Of course I agree with her," responded Hepatica, looking from him to
+me--and back again. "You are only pretending to doubt us both. It's very
+clever of you, but we know perfectly that you understand how far--very
+far--we are affected by your ideals, your judgments, your whole estimate
+of life. Therefore--you must be very careful how you use your influence
+with us!"
+
+The Skeptic gave her back the look he saw in her eyes. "Ah, you two
+belong to the wise ones!" he said. "The wise ones, who, magnifying our
+hold on you, thus acquire a far more tremendous hold on us! Eh, Philo?"
+
+The Philosopher smiled--inscrutably. Probably he felt that an
+inscrutable smile was his safest means of navigating waters like these.
+
+We went down to the wedding. The Preacher stood up very straight while
+he was being married, and though his boyish cheek paled and reddened
+again as the ceremony proceeded, his responses were clear-cut. Rhodora
+made a bonny bride. The absurd vision I had had of her, ever since I
+had heard she was to be married, of her taking the officiating
+clergyman's book out of his hand and steering the service for herself,
+melted away before the vision of her serious young beauty as she made
+her vows, and turned from the clergyman's felicitations, at the
+conclusion of the service, to take Grandmother into a tender embrace.
+
+"I owe it all to you," she said to Grandmother by and by, in my hearing,
+as we three happened to be for a little alone together. She turned to
+me. "I was a barbarian when she took me," she said. "A barbarian of
+barbarians. If it hadn't been for Grandmother I should be one yet, and
+he"--her glance went off for an instant toward her young husband--"would
+never have dreamed of looking at me."
+
+"You were not very different, my dear," said Grandmother, in her gentle
+way, "from many girls of this day."
+
+"Forgive me, dear," responded Rhodora, "but I was so much worse that
+only a grandmother like you could have shown me what I was."
+
+"I never tried to show you what you were," said Grandmother. "Only what
+you could be. And now--I must lose you."
+
+The Preacher came up, the Skeptic by his side. The Philosopher and
+Hepatica, seeing the old magic circle forming, promptly added
+themselves.
+
+It fell out, presently, that the Philosopher and I, a step away from the
+others, were observing them as we talked together. The Philosopher had
+adjusted his eyeglasses, having carefully polished them. He seemed to
+want to see things clearly to-day.
+
+"This is a scene I've witnessed a good many times, first and last," said
+he. "Each time it impresses me afresh with the daring of the
+participants. Brave young things, setting sail upon a mighty ocean, in a
+small boat, which may or may not be seaworthy--some of them, it seems,
+sometimes, with neither chart nor compass--certainly with little
+knowledge of the crew. It's a trite comparison, I suppose."
+
+"You talk as if you stood safely on the shore," I ventured. "Is life no
+ocean to you, then--and do you never feel adrift upon it?"
+
+The Philosopher stared curiously at me. It was, I admit, a strange
+speech for me to make to him, but I had not been thinking of him. I had
+been thinking of Lad, my big boy, now away at school, and of the day
+when he should reach this experience for himself, and I should have to
+give him up--my one near tie. I should surely feel adrift in that
+day--far adrift.
+
+"Does it seem to you like that?" he asked, very gently, after a minute.
+
+I looked up, and saw a new and quite strange expression in his kindly
+eyes. "No, no," I said hastily. "How could it--with so many and such
+good friends?"
+
+I think he would have questioned me further, but the Skeptic at that
+moment turned my way, and I laid hold upon him--figuratively
+speaking--and did not let go again till all danger of a discussion with
+the Philosopher on the subject of my loneliness was past.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+WISTARIA--AND THE PHILOSOPHER
+
+     Friendship needs delicate handling.
+     --_Hugh Black._
+
+
+"After all this dining and wine-ing of you," said Hepatica suddenly one
+morning, toward the close of my visit, "you are not to escape without
+our giving a dinner for you."
+
+"Oh, my dear," I began, "after all you have done for me, surely that
+isn't necessary. I have had----"
+
+"Yes, I know. You have had dinners and dinners, including the
+Philosopher's bachelor repast, which might or might not be called by
+that name, but was certainly great fun. But I want to give you a dinner
+myself."
+
+"Better let her," advised the Skeptic, who was putting on his overcoat
+at the time, preparatory to leaving us for the day. "It won't be like
+anything of that name you have ever tried before. Besides she wants you
+to meet Wistaria."
+
+"Who is Wistaria?" I asked.
+
+They both looked at me. Then they looked at each other.
+
+"Hasn't Philo told you about Wistaria?" inquired the Skeptic, in evident
+surprise. "Wasn't she at his----Oh, that's right--she was out of town.
+Well, she's back, and you must meet her. She's a mighty fine girl--or,
+if not exactly a girl, woman. Philo admires her rather more than he
+condescends to admire most women, I should say. Any errands for me,
+Patty? All right--good-bye, dear."
+
+He kissed her and ran for his car. I stood looking out of the window
+after him. It struck me rather suddenly that it was a gray day outside,
+with heavy clouds threatening to make the sky even darker. There was a
+touch of gloom in the whole outer aspect of things.
+
+Hepatica immediately set about making preparations for her dinner. It
+would be most informal, she assured me, and as I heard her giving her
+invitations over the telephone I recognized from their character that
+it would be so, even though I heard her inviting quite a party,
+including Camellia and the Judge, Dahlia and the Professor, Althea and
+the Promoter, and Azalea and the Cashier. A strange man, a Mining
+Engineer, was included in the list, to make the tale of numbers evenly
+divided. I judged he was likely to fall to me in the final disposition
+of the guests at Hepatica's table, and inquired what he was like.
+
+"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to
+like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married,
+and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his
+work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early
+forties."
+
+Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on
+the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom
+she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I
+laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant
+to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was
+thankful. For some reason, which I could not just understand myself, I
+was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long
+time.
+
+The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray
+frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of
+violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card
+in the box. Hepatica had three magnificent red roses at the same time.
+It was like the Skeptic to be so thoughtful.
+
+The guests arrived--Camellia superbly attired, Althea gorgeously so,
+Dahlia in youthful pink and white, Azalea in a demurely simple dress
+whose laces were just a thought rumpled about the neck, and had to be
+straightened out by my assisting fingers. Little Bud, she explained, had
+insisted on hugging her violently at the last moment, before he would
+allow her to come away.
+
+Wistaria came last, so that, as we all stood grouped about the little
+rooms I had a fine chance to see her arrival. She had to go through the
+room in which we were to reach Hepatica's bedroom, and I saw a tall and
+graceful figure, all in black under a white evening cloak, and caught a
+glimpse of a pair of brilliant dark eyes under the white silken scarf
+which enveloped her hair. But when she came out, in Hepatica's company,
+I saw, undisguised, one of the most attractive women I had ever met.
+
+"She's unusual, isn't she?" said the Skeptic in my ear, as, having
+welcomed the new guest, and watched Hepatica present her to me, he fell
+back at my side. Wistaria had greeted the Philosopher with the quiet
+warmth of manner which means assured acquaintance, and the two had
+remained together while we waited for the serving of the dinner.
+
+"She is very charming," I agreed. "It is her manner, quite as much as
+her face, isn't it? She must be well worth knowing."
+
+"We think so," said he. He seemed to be regarding me quite steadily. I
+wondered uneasily if I were not looking well. The rooms seemed rather
+over-warm. The presence of so many people in such a small space is apt
+to make the air oppressive. Also I remembered that the effect of
+pale-gray is not to heighten one's colouring.
+
+Wistaria, all in filmy black, from which her white shoulders rose like
+a flower, wore one splendid American Beauty rose. Somehow I felt, quite
+suddenly, that pale-gray is a meaningless tint, the mere shadow of a
+colour, of less character than white, of immeasurably less beauty than
+simple black itself. I caught the Philosopher's eye apparently fixed for
+a moment upon my violets, and I wondered, with a queer little sensation
+of disquiet, if even they seemed to be without character also.
+
+Then dinner was announced, and I shook myself mentally, and looked up
+smiling at my Mining Engineer, who was truly a man worth knowing and a
+most pleasant gentleman besides, and went to dinner with him determined
+that if I must look characterless I would not be characterless, nor make
+my companion long to get away.
+
+Wistaria and the Philosopher sat exactly opposite. The Mining Engineer
+on my one side, and the Judge on my other, kept me too busy to spend
+much time in noting Wistaria's captivating presence or the Philosopher's
+absorption. Yet, at moments when some sally of the Skeptic's, who sat
+upon Wistaria's other side, brought the attention of the whole company
+to bear upon that quarter of the table, I found myself unable to help
+noting two things. One was that I had never seen the Philosopher so
+roused and ready of speech; the other, that I had never quite
+appreciated how distinguished he has, of late years, grown in
+appearance. Possibly this was because I had not had the chance to
+view him under just these conditions; possibly, also, it was because
+he literally was growing distinguished in the world of scientific
+research, and his name becoming one cited as an authority in a certain
+important field.
+
+The dinner itself I cannot describe, for the sufficient reason that I
+cannot now recall one solitary thing I ate. But the impression remains
+with me that it was really an extraordinarily simple dinner, that
+everything was delicious, and that one rose up from it with a sense of
+having been daintily fed, not stuffed. I'm sure I could not pay it a
+higher or a rarer compliment.
+
+After dinner the Promoter told stories of "deals," to which the
+Professor listened curiously, watching the speaker as he might have
+gently eyed some strange specimen in the world of insects or of birds.
+The Judge and the Cashier hobnobbed for a while; then the Judge made his
+way to the side of Wistaria and remained there for an indefinite period,
+both looking deeply interested in their conversation. The Engineer
+attempted to make something of Althea, but presently gave it up, spent a
+few moments with Camellia, and came back to me. By and by Azalea and the
+Cashier sang a duet for us, and after some persuasion Azalea then sang
+alone. Altogether, the evening got on somehow--it is all very hazy in my
+mind, except for one singular fact--I did not spend a moment with the
+Philosopher. How this happened I do not know, and it was so unusual that
+it seemed noteworthy. It was not because he was not several times in my
+immediate vicinity, but I was always at the moment so engaged with
+whomever happened to be talking with me that I had not time to turn and
+include the Philosopher in the interview.
+
+When our guests departed they went together, having one and the same car
+to catch. All but Wistaria, who had come in her own private carriage,
+which was late in arriving to take her home. The Philosopher had
+remained with her, and he took her down to her carriage. I cannot
+remember seeing anything more attractive than Wistaria's personality as
+she said good night, her sparkling face all winsome cordiality, her
+white scarf lying lightly upon the masses of her black hair, the crimson
+rose nodding from the folds of her long, white cloak.
+
+"Pretty fine looking pair, aren't they?" observed the Skeptic, with an
+expansive grin, the moment the door had closed upon Wistaria and the
+Philosopher. He threw himself into a chair and yawned mightily.
+"Wistaria's almost as tall as Philo, isn't she? A superb woman."
+
+"I never saw her looking so well," agreed Hepatica, straightening chairs
+and settling couch pillows, trailing here and there in her pretty frock
+with all the energy of the early morning, as if it were not half-after
+eleven by the little mantel clock. "Didn't you like her, dear?" She
+threw an eager glance at me. She was in the restless mood of the hostess
+who wishes to be assured that everything has gone well.
+
+"I was charmed with her," said I--I had not meant to take a seat again;
+I was weary and wanted to get away to bed--"I never knew how beautiful
+an American Beauty rose was till I saw it beneath her face."
+
+The Skeptic turned in his chair and looked at me. "Well done!" he cried.
+"Couldn't have said it better myself. We must tell Philo that speech.
+He'll be deeply gratified. He has every confidence in your taste."
+
+"The dinner was perfect," I went on. "I never imagined one so cleverly
+planned. And everybody seemed in great spirits--there wasn't a dull
+moment."
+
+"You dear thing!" said Hepatica, and came and dropped a kiss upon my
+hair. "It's fun to do things for you, you're so appreciative. Didn't you
+enjoy your Mining Engineer?"
+
+"He was so entertaining," said I, "that if it had been any other dinner
+than that one I shouldn't have known what I was eating."
+
+"Hear, hear!" applauded the Skeptic. "Bouquets for us all! Didn't I make
+an ideal host?"
+
+"Your geniality was rivalled only by your tact," I declared.
+
+They laughed together. Then the Skeptic sat up. He got up and strode
+over to the window and peered down. "Philo is taking a disgracefully
+long time to see the lady into her carriage," he observed. "I supposed
+he'd be back, to talk it over, as usual. The best of entertaining is the
+talking your guests over after they've gone--eh, Patty, girl? I don't
+seem to see the carriage. Perhaps he's gone home with her."
+
+I laid my hand upon the door of my room. "I don't know why I am so
+sleepy," I apologized. "It only came over me since the door closed. But
+you must both be tired, too--and we have to be up in the morning at the
+usual hour."
+
+Hepatica looked regretful, but she did not urge me to remain. I felt
+guilty at leaving a wide-awake host and hostess who wanted to talk
+things over, but really I--the perfume from my violets had been stealing
+away my nerves all the evening. I felt that I must take them off or grow
+faint at their odour, which seemed stronger as they drooped. I opened my
+door, turned to smile back at the pair, and shut it upon the inside. A
+moment later I was standing by my window which I had thrown wide, and
+the winter wind was lifting the violets which I had already forgotten to
+take off.
+
+I heard the murmur of voices in the room outside, but it soon ceased.
+With no third person to praise the feast it was probably dull work
+congratulating each other on its success. By and by--I don't know when
+it happened--I heard the electric entrance-bell whirr in the tiny hall,
+and the Skeptic go to answer it. Then I heard voices again--men's
+voices. There was an interval. Then came a small knock at my door. I
+opened it to Hepatica.
+
+"The Philosopher has come back," she whispered. I had not lit my
+light--I had closed my window and had been sitting by it, my elbows on
+the sill. Hepatica put out her hand and felt of me. "Oh, you haven't
+undressed," she said. "Then won't you go out and see him? He seemed so
+disappointed when Don said you had gone. It seems he's called out of
+town quite suddenly--he's afraid he may not be back before you go--he
+says he didn't have a chance to tell you about it this evening."
+
+There was no help for it--I had no excuse. I did not dare to snap on my
+light and look at myself. I put my hands to my hair to feel if it was
+still snug; then I went.
+
+Hepatica had mercifully turned off all the lights but the rose-shaded
+drop-light on the reading-table and two of the electric candles in the
+dining-room. It was a relief to feel the glare gone. The air from the
+window had freshened me. The Philosopher stood by the reading-table,
+upon which he had laid his hat. His overcoat was on a chair. Evidently
+he was not waiting merely to say good-bye and go.
+
+The Skeptic, upon my entrance, immediately crossed the room to the door
+of the hall, upon which his own room opened. "You people will excuse
+me," he said. "I don't know _why_ I am so sleepy." His tone was
+peculiar, and I recognized that he was quoting my words of a half-hour
+before. "It only came over me since the door closed on our guests. And I
+have to be up in the morning at the usual hour. But don't let that hurry
+you, Philo, old man." And he vanished.
+
+The Philosopher looked as if he did not mean to let it hurry him. He
+drew his chair near mine, facing me, after a fashion he has, and looked
+at me in silence for a minute.
+
+"You are tired," he said.
+
+"A little. The rooms were very warm."
+
+"They were. They made the violets droop, I see."
+
+I put up my hand. "Yes. I meant to take them off."
+
+"Perhaps you don't like violets. If I could have found a bunch of
+sweet-williams to send you instead, like those in your own garden, I
+should have preferred it. I know what you like among summer flowers, but
+with these florist's offerings I'm not so familiar. I'm afraid I'm not
+much versed in the sending of flowers."
+
+"Did you send these?" I put my hand up to them again. They certainly
+were drooping sadly. Perhaps if they had known who sent them----
+
+"To be sure I did."
+
+"There was no card. I thought it was Don--and forgot to thank
+him--luckily. Let me thank you now. They have been so sweet all the
+evening."
+
+"Too sweet, haven't they? You looked a bit pale to-night, I thought."
+
+"It was my frock. Gray always makes people look pale."
+
+"Does it? I've liked that frock so much--and I had an idea gray and
+purple went together."
+
+"They do--beautifully. And to-morrow, after the violets have been in
+water, they'll be quite fresh--and so shall I. To tell the honest truth,
+so many dinners--well, I'm not used to them. I'm just a little bit glad
+to remember that spring is coming on soon, and I can get out in my old
+garden and dig and rake, and watch the things come out."
+
+"Yes--you're one of the outdoor creatures," said the Philosopher,
+leaning back in his chair in the old way--he had been sitting up quite
+straight. "I understand it--I like gardens myself. And your garden most
+of all. Do you realize, between your absences and my long stay in
+Germany, it's three summers since I've strolled about your garden?"
+
+"So long? Yes, it must be."
+
+"But I mean to be at home this summer. Do you?"
+
+[Illustration: "And so we renewed the old vow"]
+
+"I? Yes, I think so. After so long a winter outing--or inning--I
+couldn't bear to miss the garden this year. And Lad will be home--his
+first vacation. He is fond of the old garden, too."
+
+"May I come?" asked the Philosopher rather abruptly.
+
+"To stroll about the garden? Haven't you always been welcome?"
+
+"I want a special welcome--from you--from my friend. When a man has only
+one friend, that one's welcome means a good deal to him."
+
+"Only one! You have so many."
+
+"Have I? Yes, so I have, and pleasant friends they are, too. But
+friendship--with only one. Come, Rhexia--you understand that as well as
+I. Why pretend you don't? That's not like you."
+
+He was looking at me very steadily. He leaned forward, stretching out
+his hand. I laid mine in it. And so we renewed the old vow.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+SIXTEEN MILES TO BOSWELL'S
+
+
+"One passenger off the five-thirty, coming up the hill," announced Sue
+Boswell, peering eagerly out of the Inn's office window. "That makes
+nine for supper. I'll run and tell mother."
+
+"Nine--poor child," murmured Tom Boswell, behind the desk. "That's
+certainly a great showing for a summer hotel, on the fifteenth day of
+July. If we don't do better in August--the game's up."
+
+He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by
+Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace
+which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer,
+Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of
+medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which
+was set a pair of black eyes with dark circles round them, the man had
+somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous
+energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He
+was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way
+which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance.
+
+Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good
+room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no
+kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze--if you've
+got such a thing."
+
+"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we
+haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have
+plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And
+we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world.
+Shall I show you?"
+
+"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though
+Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen.
+
+"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the
+experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling, for some
+reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the
+rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had
+brought along three keys--rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard
+to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon
+this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and
+whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner.
+
+He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in
+silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly,
+without waiting for a comment.
+
+This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who
+wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along
+the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom
+always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a
+possible wealthy society lady--though Heaven knew that, during the six
+weeks the Inn had been open, no guest distantly resembling one or the
+other of those desirable types had approached the little mountain
+hostelry.
+
+"Anything better?" inquired the thin man, his extraordinarily quick
+glance covering every detail of the room like lightning, as Tom felt.
+
+"Sure--if you want the bridal suit." Tom pronounced it proudly, as it
+were a claw-hammer and white waistcoat.
+
+"Bring her on."
+
+Tom marched ahead to the two rooms opening on the little balcony above
+the side porch, a balcony which belonged to the "bridal suite" alone,
+and which commanded the finest view into the very heart of the mountains
+that the house afforded. Seeing his guest--after one look around the
+spotless room with its pink and white furnishings, and into the small
+dressing-room beyond--stride toward the outer door, Tom threw it wide.
+The guest stepped out on to the balcony. Here he pulled off his hat,
+which he had not before removed, and let the breeze--for there was
+unquestionably a breeze, even on this afternoon of a day which had been
+one of the hottest the country had known--drift refreshingly against his
+damp brow. The zephyr was strong enough even to lift slightly the thick
+locks of black hair which lay above the white forehead.
+
+"Price for this?" asked the stranger, in his abrupt way, turning back
+into the room.
+
+Tom mentioned it--with a little inward hesitation. The family had
+differed a good deal on the question of prices for these best rooms. In
+his opinion that settled upon for the bridal suite was almost
+prohibitively high. Not a guest yet but had turned away with a sigh. For
+a moment he had been tempted to reduce it, but he had promised the
+others to stick by the decision at least through July. So he mentioned
+the price firmly.
+
+The guest glanced sharply at him as he did so. There was a queer little
+contraction of the stranger's thin upper lip. Then he said: "I'll take
+'em--for the night, and you may hold 'em for me till to-morrow night.
+Tell you then whether I'll stay longer."
+
+Tom understood, of course, that it was now a question of a satisfactory
+table. But here he knew he was strong. Mother Boswell's cooking--there
+was none better obtainable. He was already in a hurry to prove to this
+laconic stranger who demanded the best he had of everything, including
+breezes, that in the matter of food Boswell's Inn could satisfy the
+most exacting. Not in elaborately dressed viands of rare kitchen
+product, of course--that was not to be expected off here. But in
+temptingly cooked everyday food, and in certain extras which were Mother
+Boswell's specialties, and which the few people now in the Inn called
+for with ever-increasing zest--though they seldom deigned to send any
+special word of praise to the anxious cook--Boswell's needed to ask
+forbearance of nobody.
+
+"I'll send your stuff up right away," said Tom, as the other man cast
+his straw hat upon a chair and went over to a washstand, where hung
+several snowy towels. "Have some hot water?"
+
+"Yes--and iced."
+
+"All right." Tom was off on the jump. It was certainly something to have
+rented the bridal suite even for the night, but he felt more than
+ordinarily curious to know who his guest was.
+
+"Might be a travelling man," he speculated, when he had given Tim his
+orders, "though he doesn't exactly seem like one. But he looks like a
+fellow who's used to getting what he wants."
+
+When the new guest came downstairs, at the peal of a gong through the
+quiet house, Tom saw him cast one keen-eyed glance in turn at each of
+the other occupants of the lobby, as they clustered about the door of
+the dining-room. Seven of these were women, and of that number at least
+five were elderly. Of the two younger ladies, neither presented any
+special attractiveness beyond that of entire respectability. The eighth
+guest was a man--a middle-aged man who was reading a book and who
+carried the book into the dining-room with him, where he continued to
+read it at his solitary table.
+
+Tom Boswell was at the elbow of the latest arrival as he entered the
+dining-room, a long, low, but airy apartment, as spotless and shining in
+its way as the bedroom upstairs had been. There was no head waiter, and
+Tom himself piloted the new guest to a small table by a window, looking
+off into the mountains on the opposite side of the house from that of
+the bridal suite. The women boarders were all behind him, the solitary
+man just across the way at a corresponding small table. Certainly the
+proprietor of Boswell's Inn possessed that great desideratum for such
+an official--tact.
+
+Sue Boswell, aged fifteen, in a blue-and-white print frock and white
+apron so crisp that one could not discern a wrinkle in them, waited on
+the new guest. She did not ask him what he would have, nor present to
+him a card from which to select his meal. She brought him first a small
+cup of chicken broth, steaming hot; and though he regarded this at first
+as if he had no appetite whatever, after the first tentative sip he went
+on to the bottom of the cup. When this was gone, Sue placed before him a
+plate of corned-beef hash, an alluring pinkness showing beneath the
+gratifying upper coat of brown. A small dish of cucumbers--thin, iced
+cucumbers, with a French dressing--accompanied the hash; and with these
+he was offered hot rolls so small and delicate and crisp that, after
+cautiously sampling the butter with what seemed a fastidious palate, the
+guest took to eating rolls as if he had seldom found anything so well
+worth consuming.
+
+Something made of red raspberries and cream followed, and then half a
+large cantaloupe, its golden heart filled with crushed ice, was placed
+before him. Last appeared a cup of amber coffee. As the guest tasted
+this beverage, a look of complete satisfaction overspread his pale face,
+and he drained the cup clear and asked for more.
+
+Presently he strolled out into the lobby. Here Tom awaited him behind
+the desk. The hotel register was open, and Tom's fingers suggestively
+held a pen. The guest obeyed the hint. At an inn so small, it certainly
+would be a pity for any guest not to add his name to the short list.
+
+For it was a very short list. Although a full month had gone by since
+the first arrival had written her name, the bottom of the page had not
+been quite reached when this latest one scratched his in characters
+which looked quite as much like Arabic as English. When Tom came to
+examine the name later, he made it out to be Perkins, though it might
+quite as easily have been Tompkins, or Judson, or any other name which
+had an elevated letter somewhere in the middle. The initials were quite
+indecipherable. But Perkins it turned out to be, for when Tom
+tentatively addressed the newcomer by that appellation there was no
+correction made, and he continued to respond whenever so accosted.
+
+Mr. Perkins spent the evening smoking upon the porch, his head turned
+toward the mountains. The next morning, when he had eaten a breakfast
+which included some wonderful browned griddle-cakes and syrup--another
+of the Inn's specialties--he strolled away into the middle distance and
+was observed by various of the guests, from time to time, perched about
+among the rocks, in idle attitudes.
+
+"He's a queer duck," observed Tom in the kitchen that day, describing
+Mr. Perkins to his mother. Mrs. Boswell seldom appeared beyond her
+special domain--that of the kitchen--but left the rest of the
+housekeeping to her daughters Bertha and Sue; the management of the Inn
+to Tom and Tim. "Silent as an owl. Seems to like his food--nothing
+strange about that. He doesn't act sick, exactly, but tired, or bored,
+or used up, somehow. Eyes like coals and sharper than a ferret's. I
+can't make him out. He won't talk to anybody, except now and then a word
+or two to Mr. Griffith. Never looks at the ladies, but I tell you they
+look at him. Every one of 'em has a different notion about him. Anyhow,
+he's taken the bridal suit for two weeks. Goes down to the post-office
+for his mail--gave particular orders not to have it sent up here. That's
+kind of funny, isn't it? Oh, I meant to tell you before: he's paid for
+his rooms a week in advance."
+
+"It helps a little," said his sister Bertha. She was twenty-five years
+old, and if any one of this family had the responsibility of the success
+of Boswell's Inn heavily and anxiously at heart, it was Bertha. "But it
+can't make up the difference. Here's July half over, and not a dozen
+people in the house. What can be the matter? Isn't everything all
+right?"
+
+"Sure it's all right," insisted Tom. "We just haven't got known,
+that's all."
+
+"But how are we going to get known, if nobody comes? Our advertisement
+in the city papers costs dreadfully, and it doesn't seem to bring
+anybody."
+
+"Now see here," said Tom firmly, "don't you go to getting discouraged.
+This is our first season. We can't expect to do much the first season.
+We're prepared for that."
+
+But he realized, quite as clearly as his sister, that they had not been
+prepared for so complete a failure as they were making. Boswell's Inn
+stood only sixteen miles away from a large city, a great Western
+railroad centre, into which, early and late, thousands of tourists were
+pouring. The road out into the mountains was a good one, the trip easy
+enough for the owners of motor cars, of whom the city held enough to
+make a continuous procession all the way if only they could be headed in
+the right direction. But how to head them? That was what Tom couldn't
+figure out.
+
+On the third evening after Mr. Perkins's arrival, Tom, strolling
+gloomily out upon the porch to see if any one was lingering there to
+prevent his closing up, discovered Perkins sitting alone, smoking. There
+had not been a new arrival that day; worse, one of the elderly ladies
+had gone away. She had departed reluctantly, but her absence counted
+just the same, and Tom was missing her as he had never expected to miss
+any elderly lady with iron-gray curls and a cast in one eye.
+
+"Nice night," observed Tom to Mr. Perkins.
+
+"First-class."
+
+"Getting cooled off a bit up here?"
+
+"Pretty well."
+
+"Are, you--having everything you want?"
+
+Tom asked the question with some diffidence. It was a matter of regret
+with him that he couldn't afford yet to put young Tim into buttons, but
+without them he was sure the lad made as alert a bellboy and porter as
+could be asked.
+
+"Nothing to complain of."
+
+Tom wished Mr. Perkins wouldn't be so taciturn. The proprietor of the
+Inn That Couldn't Get a Start was feeling so blue to-night that speech
+with some one besides his depressed family was almost a necessity. He
+couldn't talk with the women; Mr. Griffith, though kindly enough, had
+his nose forever buried in a book. Perkins looked as if he could talk if
+he would, and have something to say, too. Tom tried to think of an
+observation which would draw this silent man out. But quite suddenly,
+and greatly to Tom's surprise, Mr. Perkins began to draw Tom out. Even
+so, his questions were like shots from a gun, so brief and to the point
+were they.
+
+"Doing any advertising?" broke the silence first, from a corner of the
+thin mouth. Perkins's cigar had been shifted to the opposite corner. He
+did not look at Tom, but continued to gaze off toward a certain curious
+effect of moonlight against the rocky sides of the canyon.
+
+"We have a card in all the city papers."
+
+"Any specials? Write-ups?"
+
+"Well, this is our first season, and we didn't feel as if we could
+afford to pay for that."
+
+"No pulls, eh?"
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"No friends among the newspaper men?"
+
+"I don't know one. They don't seem to come up here. I wish they would."
+
+"Ever ask one?"
+
+"I don't know any," repeated Tom.
+
+A short laugh, more like a grunt, was Perkins's reply. Tom didn't see
+what there was to laugh at in the misfortune of having no acquaintance
+among the writing fellows. He waited eagerly for the next question. It
+was worth a good deal to him merely to have this outsider show a spark
+of interest in the fortunes of Boswell's Inn.
+
+"When did you open up?" It came just as he feared Perkins was going to
+drop the subject.
+
+"The third of June."
+
+"Own the house?"
+
+"No--lease it, cheap. It's an old place, but we put all we could afford
+into freshening it up."
+
+"Cook a permanent one?"
+
+The form of the question perplexed Tom for an instant, but it presently
+resolved itself, and he was grinning as he replied: "Sure she is. It's
+my mother. Do you like her cooking?"
+
+"A-1."
+
+Ah, Tom would tell his mother that! The young man flushed slightly in
+the darkness of the porch. It was almost the first compliment that had
+been paid her, and she worked like a slave, too.
+
+"Little waitress your sister?"
+
+"Yes. Sue's young, but we think she does pretty well."
+
+"Delivers the goods. Housekeeper a member of the family, too?"
+
+"Yes--and Tim's my brother. Oh, it's all in the family. The only
+trouble is----" he hesitated.
+
+"Lack of patronage?"
+
+"We can't keep open much longer if things don't improve." The moment the
+words were out Tom regretted them. He didn't know how he had come to
+speak them. He hadn't meant to give this fact away. Certainly there had
+been nothing particularly sympathetic in the tone of Perkins's choppy
+questions. But the other man's next words knocked his regrets out of his
+mind in a jiffy.
+
+"Could you entertain a dozen men at supper to-morrow night if they came
+in a bunch without warning?"
+
+"Give us the chance!"
+
+"Chance might happen--better be prepared. I expect to be away over
+to-morrow night myself, but have the tip that a crowd may be coming out
+to sample the place. It may be a mistake--don't know."
+
+"We'll be ready. Would they come by train?"
+
+"Don't ask me--none of my picnic. Merely overheard the thing suggested."
+And Perkins, rising, cast away the close-smoked stub of his cigar.
+"Good-night," said he, carelessly enough, and strolled in through the
+wide hall of the old stone house. Tom looked after him as he mounted the
+stairs. The young innkeeper's spirits had gone up with a bound. A dozen
+men to supper! Well--he thought they could entertain them. He would go
+and tell his mother and Bertha on the instant; the prospect would cheer
+them immensely. He wondered how or where Perkins had overheard this
+rumour. At the post-office, most likely. It was a gossipy place, the
+centre of the tiny burg at the foot of the mountain, an eighth of a mile
+away, where a dozen small shops and half a hundred houses strung along
+the one small street, at the end of which the two daily trains made
+their half-minute stops.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The dozen men had come and gone. There were fourteen of them, to be
+exact, and they had climbed out of a couple of big touring cars with
+sounds of hilarity which made the elderly ladies jump in their chairs.
+They had swarmed over the place as if they owned it, had talked and
+laughed and joked and shouted, all in a perfectly agreeable way which
+woke up Boswell's as if it were in the centre of somewhere instead of
+off in the mountains. They had scrawled fourteen vigorous scrawls upon
+the register and made it necessary to turn the page, this of itself
+affording the clerk a satisfaction quite out of proportion to the
+apparent unimportance of the incident. Then they had gone gayly in to
+supper, had sat about two stainless tables close by the open windows,
+and had been waited upon by both Sue and Tim in such alert fashion that
+their plates arrived almost before they had unfurled their napkins.
+
+Out in the kitchen, crimson-cheeked and solicitous, Mrs. Boswell had
+sent in relays of broiled chicken, young and tender, browned as only
+artists of her rank can brown them, flanked by potatoes cooked in a way
+known only to herself. These were two of her "specialties," which the
+elderly ladies were accustomed to enjoy without mentioning it. Pickles
+and jellies such as the fourteen men had tasted only in childhood
+accompanied these dishes, and the little hot rolls came on in piles
+which melted away before the delighted attacks of the hungry guests; so
+that the kitchen itself became alarmed, and cut the elderly ladies a
+trifle short, at which complaints were promptly filed, though it was the
+first time such a shortage had occurred.
+
+Other toothsome dishes followed and were partaken of with such zest and
+so many frank expressions of approval that Sue and Tim carried to the
+kitchen reports which forced their mother to ask them to stop, lest she
+lose her head. When the amber coffee with a fine cheese and crisp
+toasted wafers ended the meal, the guests were in such a state of
+satisfaction that Tom, though he did not know it, had acquired with them
+his first "pull."
+
+He did not know it--not then. He only knew that they were very cordial
+with him, asking him a good many interested questions, and that one
+requested to be shown rooms, remarking that his wife and children might
+like to run out for a little while before the summer was over. Most of
+them looked back at the Inn as the automobiles bore them away, and one
+waved his cigar genially at Tom standing on the top step.
+
+He was standing on the top step again the next morning when Mr. Perkins
+returned. Tom was wishing Perkins had been there the night before, to
+see confirmed the truth of the rumour he had reported.
+
+"Well, we had the crowd here last night," was Tom's greeting, as
+Perkins's sharp black eyes looked up at him from the bottom step.
+
+"So I see." Perkins held up a morning paper. The inevitable cigar was in
+his mouth. His face indicated no particular interest. He went along into
+the house as Tom grasped the paper. So he saw! What did Perkins mean by
+that? It couldn't be that any of that party of men had, unsolicited,
+taken the trouble to----
+
+But they had, or one of them had. In a fairly conspicuous position on
+one of the local pages of the best city daily was an item of at least a
+dozen lines setting forth the fact that a party of prominent men,
+including several newspaper men, had taken supper the night before at
+Boswell's Inn, Mount o' Pines, and had found that place decidedly
+attractive. The paragraph stated that such a supper was seldom found at
+summer hotels, added that the air and the view were worth a long trip to
+obtain when the city was sweltering with heat, and ended by speaking of
+the prime condition of the roads leading to the Inn. Altogether, it was
+such an item as Tom had often longed to see, and the reading of it went
+to his head. When, ten minutes later, Tim, coming up from the
+post-office with the mail and another of the morning papers, excitedly
+called Tom's attention to a second paragraph headed, "Have You Had a
+Supper at Boswell's Inn?" Tom became positively delirious.
+
+"It pays to set it up to a bunch like that," was Perkins's comment when
+Tom showed him this second free advertisement.
+
+"But I didn't treat them. They paid their bills," cried the young host.
+
+"Charge your usual price?"
+
+"Sure. We didn't have anything extra--except the cheese. Tim drove ten
+miles for that."
+
+"Usual price was all the treat those fellows needed."
+
+"Do you mean you don't think I charge enough?" Tom's eyes opened wide.
+He had felt as if he were robbing those men when he counted up the sum
+total.
+
+"Ever dine at the Arcadia?--or the Princess?"
+
+"No."
+
+"They do."
+
+Tom did not know the prices at these imposing popular hotels in the
+nearby city, but he supposed they were high. He felt as if he were the
+greenest innkeeper who ever invited the patronage of city guests.
+
+"Would you advise me to put up the price?" Tom asked presently, with
+some hesitation.
+
+Perkins glanced at him out of those worn, brilliant, black eyes of his,
+which looked as if they had seen more of the world than Tom's ever would
+see in the longest life he could live, though Perkins himself could
+hardly be over forty, perhaps not quite that.
+
+"Not yet, son," said he. "By and by--yes. But keep up the quality
+now--and then."
+
+That evening a young man, whom Tom recognized as one of the party of the
+night before, the one who had waved to him as he had driven away,
+appeared again. He came in a runabout this time and brought two women,
+who proved to be his mother and sister. The young man himself--Mr.
+Haskins--smiled genially at Tom, and said by way of explanation:
+
+"I liked your place so well I brought them up to see if my fairy tales
+were true."
+
+Upon which Tom naturally did his best to make the fairy tales seem true,
+and thought, by the signs he noted, that he had succeeded.
+
+During the following week three or four others of the men of the
+original fourteen came up to Boswell's or sent small parties. Evidently
+the flattering paragraphs in the two dailies had also made some
+impression on people eager to get away from the intense heat of a season
+more than ordinarily trying. They found the air stirring upon the
+porches and through the rooms at the Inn; and they found--which was, of
+course, the greater attraction--a table so inviting with appetizing
+food, and an unpretentious service so satisfactory, that mouth-to-mouth
+advertising of the little new resort, that most-to-be-desired means of
+becoming known, began, gradually but surely, to tell.
+
+Strange to say, several more paragraphs now appeared: brief, crisp
+mention of the simple but perfect cooking to be had for the short drive
+of sixteen miles over the best of roads. These inevitably had their
+effect, and at the end of the third week Tom declared to Perkins that
+he was more than making expenses.
+
+"Much more?" inquired that gentleman, his eyes as usual upon the view.
+
+"Enough so we're satisfied and won't have to close up. Why, there's been
+from one to three big autos here every day this week."
+
+One of Perkins's short laughs answered this--Tom never could tell just
+what that throaty chuckle indicated. Presently he found out.
+
+"What you want, Boswell," said Perkins, removing his cigar--an unusual
+sign of interest with him--"is a boom. I'd like to see you get it.
+Gradual building up's all right, but quick methods pay better."
+
+"A boom! How on earth are we to get a boom?" Tom felt a bit
+disconcerted.
+
+He had noticed for several days an increasing restlessness in the silent
+guest. Instead of sitting quietly upon the porch with his cigar, Perkins
+had fallen to pacing up and down with a long, nervous stride. At first
+he had seemed moody and fatigued, now he had the appearance of a man
+eager to be at something from which he was restrained.
+
+When Tom asked his startled question about the desirable boom, Perkins
+got out of his chair with one abrupt movement, threw one leg over the
+porch rail, and began suddenly to talk. He could not be said really to
+have talked before. Tom listened, his eyes sticking out of his head.
+
+"Bunch of motoring fellows down in town--Mercury Club--want to get up an
+auto parade, end with supper somewhere. Hotels at Lake Lucas, Pleasant
+Valley, and half a dozen others all crazy to get 'em. Happen to know a
+chap or two in town who could swing it out here for you if you cared to
+make the bid, and could handle the crowd. Chance for you, if you want
+it. Make a big thing of it--lanterns, bonfires, fireworks,
+orchestra--regular blow-out."
+
+Tom's breath came in gasps. "Why--why----" he stammered. "How could
+we--how could we--afford----What----? How----?"
+
+Perkins threw away the stub of his cigar, chewed to a pulp at the mouth
+end. His eyes had an odd glitter. "I've what you might call a bit of
+experience in that sort of thing," he said in a quiet tone which yet had
+a certain edge of energy. "Going away next week, but might put this
+thing through for you, if you cared to trust me."
+
+"But--the money?" urged Tom.
+
+"Willing to stand for that--pay me back, if you make enough.
+Otherwise--my risk. Something of a gambler, I am. Club'll pay for the
+fireworks--that's their show. Bonfires on the mountains around are easy.
+Lanterns cheap. Get special terms on the music--friend of mine can.
+Supper's up to you. Can you get extra help?"
+
+"We can manage the supper," agreed Tom, his round cheeks deeply flushed
+with excitement. "Say, you're--you're awfully kind. I don't know
+why----"
+
+Perkins vaulted over the porch rail. From the ground below he looked
+back at Tom. For the first time since he had come to Boswell's Inn Tom
+caught sight of the gleam of white teeth, as an oddly brilliant smile
+broke out for an instant on the face which was no longer deadly white
+but brown with tan. "Son," said Perkins, preparing to swing away down to
+the post-office, "I told you I was a gambler. Gambler out of work's the
+lamest duck on the shore. Game of booming the Inn interests me--that's
+all."
+
+Tom watched the lithe, slim figure in the distance for a minute before
+he went in to break the plan to the force of Boswell's. "He's no
+gambler," said he to himself, "or I couldn't trust him the way I do.
+He's queer, but I don't believe he has any other motive for this than
+wanting to help us."
+
+With which innocent faith in the goodness of the man who had already
+seen more of the world than Tom Boswell would ever see, he rushed in to
+tell Bertha and the rest of his excited family the astounding talk he
+had just had with Perkins.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch--just one
+minute--and look."
+
+"No, no, child, I can't. I----"
+
+"Not where the folks are--just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me
+to take you."
+
+"But I can't leave----"
+
+"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come--quick. The first autos are
+coming--you can see 'em miles off."
+
+With one glance about the kitchen, where two extra helpers were busy
+with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a
+supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than
+anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up
+the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the
+balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!"
+swept an arm about the entire horizon.
+
+"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing,
+transfixed.
+
+At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street
+with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns,
+hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn
+was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms
+dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be
+told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with
+them from end to end.
+
+"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement.
+"There must be a thousand of those things. How on earth----?"
+
+But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the
+surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires
+flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty.
+
+"They're firing dynamite up on West Peak!" explained Sue. "Jack
+Weatherbee offered to do that. Tim's got boys at all those places to
+keep up the fires--and put 'em out afterward. Oh, look!--now you can see
+the parade beginning to show!"
+
+Down upon the distant plain, across which lay the winding road out from
+the city, one could discern a trail of light--thrown by many
+searchlights--and make out its rapid advance. The sight moved Mrs.
+Boswell instantly to action again.
+
+"I must get back to the kitchen!" she cried, and vanished from the
+balcony.
+
+"If you could only see the Inn from outside!" Sue called after her, but
+uselessly. Mrs. Boswell felt that the entire success of the "boom"
+depended upon the kitchen. They might string lanterns from Boswell's to
+Jericho, but if the supper shouldn't be good--the thought sent her down
+the back stairs at a speed reckless for one of her years. But she
+reached the bottom safely, or this story would never have been told.
+
+The first cars in the procession came up the steep road with open
+cut-outs. The bigger cars made nothing of it; the smaller ones got into
+their low gears and ground a bit as they pulled. In fifteen minutes from
+the first arrival, the wide plateau upon which the Inn stood looked like
+an immense garage, cars of every description having been packed in
+together at all angles. Up the Inn steps flowed a steady stream of
+people: men in driving attire and motor caps; women in long coats and
+floating veils, under which showed pretty summer frocks; a few children,
+dressed like their elders in motoring rig, their faces eager with
+interest in everything. In the hall, behind a screen of flags and
+evergreen, the orchestra played merrily. It presently had to play its
+loudest to be heard above the chorus of voices.
+
+In less time than it takes to tell, every table in the airy dining-room,
+lit by more Chinese lanterns and hung with streamers of bunting, was
+filled. Reservations had been made by mail and telephone for the past
+three days, and with a list in his hand Tom hurried about. He could
+never have kept his head if it had not been for young Haskins at his
+elbow. Haskins was secretary of the Mercury Club and knew everybody. He
+was a genial fellow, and if anybody attempted to tell Tom that a mistake
+had been made, and certain reservations should have been for the first
+or second table, instead of the third, Haskins would cut in with a joke
+and have the murmurer appeased and laughing in a trice.
+
+As for Perkins--but where was Perkins? Up to the last minute before the
+first car arrived, Perkins had been in evidence enough--in fact, he had
+been everywhere all day, personally supervising every detail, working
+like a fiend himself and inspiring everybody else to work, proving
+himself the ablest of generals and a perfect genius at effective
+decoration. The Inn, inside and out, was a fairyland of light and
+colour--even the sated eyes of the city people, accustomed to every
+trick of effect in such affairs, were charmed with the picturesque
+quality of the scene. But now Tom could see nothing of Perkins
+anywhere. Tim, hurriedly questioned, shook his head, also puzzled.
+
+Late in the evening there came a moment when Tom could free himself long
+enough to run up to Perkins's room. He was uneasy about his guest--and
+friend--for that the stranger seemed to have become. Perkins certainly
+didn't look quite strong--could he have overdone and be ill, alone in
+his room? After one hasty knock, to which he got no answer, Tom turned
+the knob. Through the open balcony door he saw a leg and shoulder--and
+smelled the familiar fragrance of the special brand.
+
+"Hello, son!" was Perkins's greeting.
+
+"You're not sick?"
+
+"Never. Things going O. K.?"
+
+"Oh, splendid! Such a crowd--such a jolly crowd! But--why don't you come
+down?"
+
+"To help make things go?"
+
+"No, no--to enjoy it. You've done enough. You must know some of these
+people, and if you don't--it's worth something just to look at 'em. I
+didn't know ladies dressed like that--under those things they wear in
+the autos. Say, Mr. Perkins, the Lieutenant-Governor's here--and his
+wife!"
+
+"So?"
+
+"Mr. Haskins thinks they want to stay all night. The lady hasn't been
+sleeping well through the heat. Mr. Haskins says she's taken a fancy to
+the Inn. But I haven't a really good room for 'em."
+
+"Take mine."
+
+Tom gasped. "Oh, no! Not yours--after all you've done----"
+
+"Going to-morrow, you know. It doesn't matter where I hang up to-night.
+Matters a good deal where Mrs. Lieutenant-Governor hangs up."
+
+"But where----?"
+
+"Anywhere. May sit up till morning, anyhow. Feel like it. Your show sort
+of goes to my head."
+
+"My show? Yours! But why on earth don't you come down and----?"
+
+"By and by, son. Say, send me some clean linen and I'll see that this
+room's in shape for the lady--girls all busy yet. Room swept yesterday.
+My truck's packed. I'll have things ready in ten minutes."
+
+Tom went downstairs feeling more than ever that his guest was an enigma.
+But he was too busy to stop just then to think about it.
+
+The hours went by. The guests talked and laughed, ate and promenaded.
+They crowded the porch to watch the fireworks on the mountain; they
+swept over the smooth space and the roadway in front of the Inn, looking
+up at it and remarking upon the quaint charm of it, the desirability of
+its location, its attractiveness as a resort. Tom heard one pretty girl
+planning a luncheon here next week; he heard a group of men talking
+about entertaining a visiting delegation of bankers up here at Boswell's
+out of the heat.
+
+Everywhere people were asking, "Why haven't we known about this?" and to
+one and another Arthur Haskins, in Tom's hearing, was saying such things
+as, "Just opened up. Jolly place, isn't it? Going to be the most popular
+anywhere around. Deserves it, too."
+
+"But is the table as good every day as it is to-night?" one skeptic
+inquired.
+
+"Better." Haskins might have been an owner of the place, he was so
+prompt with his flattering statements. "First time I came up was with a
+crowd of fellows. We took them unawares, and they served a supper that
+made us smile all over. Their cook can't be beaten--and the service is
+first-class."
+
+It was over at last. But it was at a late hour that the first cars began
+to roll away down the hill, and later still when the last got under way.
+They carried a gay company, and the final rockets, spurting from West
+Peak, flashed before the faces of people in the high good humour of
+those who have been successfully and uniquely entertained.
+
+The Lieutenant-Governor and his wife had gone to the pink and white
+welcome of the bridal suite when Perkins at last came strolling
+downstairs. Only Haskins's party remained in the flag-hung lobby, the
+women sheathing themselves in veils, as their motor chugged at the porch
+steps.
+
+Haskins turned as Perkins crossed the lobby. He stared an instant, then
+advanced with outstretched hand, smiling.
+
+"Why, Mr. Parker," he said, "I didn't know you were here. Doctor Austin
+was asking me to-day if I knew where you were. He seems to have got you
+on his mind. He'll be delighted to see you. I'll call him--he's just
+outside. He's with our party."
+
+With an expression half dismayed, half amused, Perkins looked after the
+Mercury Club's secretary as he darted to the outer door, where a big
+figure in a motoring coat was pacing up and down.
+
+Tom, leaning over the office desk, looked at Perkins. But Haskins had
+called the man "Parker." What----?
+
+The big figure in the motoring coat came hurriedly in at the doorway and
+grasped the hand of Tom's guest. "Parker," he cried, "what are you doing
+here? Are you responsible for this panjandrum to-night? Didn't I send
+you off for an absolute rest?"
+
+"Been obeying directions strictly, Doctor. I've lain around up here till
+the grass sprouted under my feet. You haven't seen me here to-night,
+have you?"
+
+"No, but the thing looks like one of your managing."
+
+"No interest in this place whatever. Never heard of it till I stumbled
+on it." But Perkins's eyes were dancing.
+
+"You're looking a lot better, anyhow. Come out here and meet Mrs.
+Austin. I want to show her the toughest patient I ever had to pull loose
+from his work."
+
+The two went out upon the porch. Tom gazed at young Haskins, as the
+latter looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Did he engineer this part of the thing, too, Boswell?" questioned the
+young man, interestedly.
+
+"Sure, he did. But who is he?"
+
+"Didn't you know who he was? That's so--you've called him Perkins all
+along, but this is the first time I've seen him here, and I didn't put
+two and two together. His letters and 'phones about this supper came
+from in town somewhere. Why, he's Chris Parker, the biggest hotel man in
+the country. Nobody like him--he'd make the deadest hotel in the
+loneliest hamlet pay in a month. Head of all the hotel organizations you
+can count. Most original chap in the world. Doctor Austin was telling me
+to-night about ordering him off for a rest because he'd put such a lot
+of nerve tension into his schemes he was on the edge of a bad breakdown.
+Well, well, you're mighty lucky if you've got him backing you. No other
+man on earth could have got the Mercury Club up here to-night--a place
+they'd never heard of."
+
+So Tom was thinking. He was still thinking it when the motor car shot
+away down the hill with its load, the physician calling back at his
+ex-patient: "Don't get going too soon again, Parker! So far, so good,
+but don't----"
+
+The last words were lost in a final boom from West Peak.
+
+Tom went slowly out upon the porch, feeling embarrassed and uncertain.
+How could he ever express his gratitude to this mighty man of valour?
+
+"Perkins" was sitting, as usual, astride the porch rail, the red light
+of his cigar glowing against the dark background of the mountains where
+the bonfires were dying to mere sparks. He looked around as Tom
+appeared, and grinned in a friendly way under the Chinese lanterns.
+
+"Tough luck, to get caught at the last minute, eh?" he said.
+
+"Mr. Per--Parker----" began Tom, and stopped.
+
+The "biggest hotel man in the country" looked at the greenest young
+innkeeper, and there was satisfaction in his bright black eyes.
+
+"Not any thanks, son. Should have croaked in one week more if I couldn't
+have worked off a few pounds of high pressure. This sort of thing to
+me's like a game to a gambler--as I told you. Had to keep incog., or I'd
+have had a dozen parties from town after me on one deal or another.
+Thought I could put this little stunt through without giving myself
+away--but came downstairs five minutes too soon. Went off pretty
+well--eh? You'll have patronage after this, all right. No--no thanks, I
+said. I'm under obligations to you for trusting me to run the thing.
+It's saved my life!"
+
+Well, if it were all a game, Tom thought, as he watched Mr. Christopher
+Parker run lightly up the stairs, a few minutes later, it was certainly
+a wondrous friendly one.
+
+_And Boswell's Inn was now known to be only sixteen short motor miles
+from town._
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+HONOUR AND THE GIRL
+
+
+He lay back among the crimson pillows in his big chair, close beside the
+fire, with his eyes on the burning logs. A tablet and pen lay in his
+lap, and he had written a few paragraphs, but he was listening now to
+certain sounds which came from below stairs: voices, laughter,
+scurryings up and down the hall and staircase; then the slam of a heavy
+door, the tuneful ring of sleighbells in a rapid _decrescendo_ down the
+street, and absolute silence within the house. Three times in the last
+fifteen minutes before the door closed somebody had looked in upon the
+occupant of the big chair to say something like this:
+
+"Oh, Jerry--sorry we couldn't spend Nan's last evening with you. Too bad
+this wretched Van Antwerp dance had to come to-night--Christmas Eve,
+too. Busy, aren't you, as usual? At work on those sketches of country
+life in winter? You clever boy--who but you could make so much out of so
+little? Anything we can do for you before we are off? Nan hates to go,
+since it's the very last evening of her visit. She thought we all ought
+to give up and stay with you, but we told her you disliked to be
+'babied.' Well--good-night, old fellow. Don't write too late. You know
+the doctor thinks plenty of sleep is part of your cure."
+
+That was the sort of thing they had been saying to him for a year now--a
+year. And he seemed no nearer health than when he had been sent home
+from his gloriously busy, abounding life in New York, where he was
+succeeding brilliantly, far beyond anybody's expectations--except those
+of the few knowing ones who had recognized the genius in him in his
+school and college days. But he had never given up. Invalided in body,
+his mind worked unceasingly; and a certain part of the literary work he
+had been doing he did still. He said it kept him from going off his
+head.
+
+When the stillness of the usually noisy house had become oppressive he
+took up his tablet and pen again. He wrote a sentence or two--slowly;
+then another--more slowly; and drew an impatient line through them all.
+He tossed the tablet over to a table near at hand and sat staring into
+the fire. Certain lines about his mouth grew deep.
+
+A knock on his door roused him, and he realized that it had sounded
+before. "Come in," he called, and the door opened and closed behind him.
+An unmistakable sound, as of the soft rustle of delicate skirts, swept
+across the floor and paused behind his chair. He drew himself up among
+his pillows, and strained his neck to look over his shoulder. A young
+face, full of life and colour, laughed down into his.
+
+"You?" he said in an amazed breath. "_You?_ Why, Nan!"
+
+He reached up one hand and took hers and drew her with his slight
+strength around where he could see her. It did not take much strength.
+She came, laughing still, and sweeping a graceful low bend before him.
+
+"Don't ask me why," she said with a shake of her head. "I didn't want to
+go. I knew I wouldn't go all the time I was dressing. But I dressed. I
+knew I could argue with them better when I got this gown on. I think I
+have rather a regal air in it, don't you?"
+
+"I could tell better if you were not wearing that shapeless thing over
+it."
+
+"Oh, but I've taken off my gloves, and I can't stand bare arms and
+shoulders here at home." She shrugged the shoulders under the thin
+silken garment with which she had covered them.
+
+"And you're not going to the Van Antwerps' at all?"
+
+"Certainly not. I preferred to stay at home."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I told you not to ask me why. But I suppose you won't talk about
+anything else until you know."
+
+She sat down opposite him before the fire, looking up at the great
+branches of holly on the chimney-piece above, their scarlet berries
+gleaming saucily among the rich green of their leaves. She reached up
+and pulled off a spray; then she glanced at him. He was silently
+surveying her. In her delicate blue gauzy gown she was something to
+look at in the fire-glow.
+
+"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said.
+
+He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and
+told me you thought you ought."
+
+She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I
+wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all
+array themselves before I refused to go."
+
+He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an
+invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him--at least
+not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for
+all it was worth."
+
+"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were
+capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all
+the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester
+were spent from pity?"
+
+"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some
+pleasant times, haven't we?"
+
+She turned from him without speaking, and, clasping her hands loosely
+in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up
+and took a fresh log from the basket.
+
+"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on
+gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours----"
+
+She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back
+with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her.
+
+"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid
+in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't
+stir to save you no matter what happened."
+
+She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I
+stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your
+help."
+
+His eyes told her that he would give it if he could.
+
+"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked,
+bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his
+breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one.
+
+"Somehow I can talk better," she explained.
+
+She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds
+about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee.
+
+"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead
+artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do
+some special work in illustrating?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and properly,
+and I shall not have any of the--trials--so many young women workers
+have. My work will keep me very busy, and, I think, happy. I mean it
+shall. But, Jerry--I want something. You know you have always known me,
+because I was Hester's friend."
+
+"Is this 'straight to the point'?" he asked, and there was a gleam of
+fun in his eyes, though his lips were sober. But his interest was
+unmistakable.
+
+"Very straight. But we have never been special friends, you and I."
+
+"Haven't we? I congratulated myself we had."
+
+"Not what I mean by that word." She sat looking into the fire for some
+little time, while he remained motionless, watching her, his eyes shaded
+by his hand. At length she said very earnestly, still staring fireward,
+while her cheeks took on a slight access of colour:
+
+"I want to feel I have a friend--one friend--a real one, whom I leave
+behind me here--who will understand me and write to me, and whom I can
+count on--differently from the way I count on other friends."
+
+He was studying her absorbedly. There came into his eyes a peculiar look
+as she made her frank statement.
+
+"Then you haven't just that sort of a friend among all the men you know
+at home?"
+
+"Not a single one. And I miss it. Not because I have ever had it," she
+added quickly.
+
+He was silent for a little while, then he said very quietly: "You are
+offering me a good deal, Nan. Do you realize just how much?
+Friendship--such friendship--means more to me now than it ever did
+before."
+
+"Does it?" she asked with equal quietness. "I'm glad of that."
+
+"Because," he went on gravely, "I realize that it is the only thing I
+can ever have, and it must take the place of all I once--hoped for."
+
+"Oh, why do you say that?" she cried impetuously.
+
+"Since you are to be my friend now--my special friend--I can tell you
+what Doctor McDonough told me just two days ago. May I tell you that? I
+have told and shall tell no one else. Before you take the vows"--he
+smiled grimly--"you should know what you are accepting."
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"He said I might be better--much better--but I could never hope to
+be--my old self again."
+
+"Oh, Jerry! Oh, Jerry!" Her voice was almost a sob. She turned about and
+reached up both hands to him, clasping his with a warm and tender
+pressure.
+
+"Is that what your friendship means?" he asked, holding her hands
+closely and looking down steadily into her eyes while his own grew
+brilliant. "If it does--it is going to be something a man might give up
+a good deal for."
+
+"Oh, how can you take such a cruel disappointment so?" she breathed.
+"And to hear it just at Christmas, too. I've said all along that you
+were just the bravest person I ever knew. But now!--Jerry, I'm not
+worthy to be your friend."
+
+"Ah, I'll not let you take back what you offered me. If you knew how
+I've wanted to ask it----"
+
+"Have you, really?" she asked so eagerly that he turned his head away
+for a moment and set his lips firmly together as if he feared he might
+presently be tempted to go beyond those strait boundaries of friendship.
+Somehow from the lips of such a girl as Nan this sort of thing was the
+most appealing flattery; at the same time it was unquestionably sincere.
+
+"So you will seal the compact? Think it over carefully. I can never give
+you the strong arm a well man could."
+
+"If you will teach me to acquire the sort of strength you have learned
+yourself," she said--and there was a hint of mistiness about those eyes
+of hers--"you will have given me something worth while."
+
+Presently they were talking of her journey, to be begun on the morrow;
+of her work, in which she had come in the last year to remarkable
+success; of his work--the part which he could do and would continue to
+do, he said, with added vigour. They talked quietly but earnestly, and
+each time she looked up into his face she saw there a new brightness,
+something beyond the mere patient acceptance of his hard trial.
+
+"Jerry," she said all at once, breaking off in the midst of a discussion
+of certain phases of the illustrator's art, "you don't know how suddenly
+rich I feel. All the while you were doing such wonderful, beautiful
+things with your pen in New York and being made so much of, I was
+thinking, 'What an inspiration Jerrold Fullerton would be as a real
+friend.' But all the girls were----"
+
+He laughed. "They won't trouble you, now."
+
+"But your friendship is worth more now than then."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"It is--because _you_ are more than you were then."
+
+"I'm a mere wreck of what I was, Nan." He did not say it bitterly, but
+he could not quite keep the sadness out of the uncompromising phrase.
+
+She looked up at him, studying his face intently. It had always been a
+remarkably fine face, and on it the suffering of the past year had done
+a certain work which added to its beauty. He did not look ill, but the
+refinement which illness sometimes lends to faces of a somewhat too
+strongly cut type had softened it into an exceeding charm. Out of it the
+eyes shone with an undaunted spirit which told of hidden fires.
+
+"I am glad a share in the wreckage falls to me," she said softly.
+
+"Nan," he told her, while his lips broke irresistibly into a smile
+again, "I believe you are deliberately trying to burn a sweet incense
+before me to-night. Just how fragrant it is to a fellow in my shape I
+can't tell you. You would never do it if I were on my feet, I appreciate
+that; but I'm very grateful just the same."
+
+"I'd like," she said with eyes which fell now to the hands folded in her
+lap--and the droop of her head as he saw it, with the turned-away
+profile cut like an exquisite silhouette against the fire, was burnt
+into his memory afterward--"to have you remember this Christmas Eve--as
+I shall."
+
+"Remember it!"
+
+"Shall you?"
+
+"Shall I!"
+
+"Ah--who is deliberately trying to say nice things now?" But she said it
+rather faintly.
+
+He lay back among his pillows with a long breath. "So you go to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"Early--at six o'clock. You will not see me. And I must go now. See, it
+is after eleven. Think of their making me go out this evening when I
+must be up at five and travel the next forty-eight hours. On Christmas
+Day, too. Isn't that too bad? But that's the price of my staying over to
+spend Christmas Eve with Jerry Fullerton--like the foolish girl that I
+am."
+
+She rose and stood before him.
+
+"Would you mind slipping off that--domino?" he requested. "I'd like to
+see you just as all the other fellows would have seen you if you had
+gone to the Van Antwerps'."
+
+Smiling, and flushing a little, she drew off the silken garment, and the
+firelight bathed her softly rounded shoulders and arms in a rosy glow.
+He looked at her silently for a minute, until she said again that she
+must go, and took a step toward him, smiling down at him and holding out
+both hands.
+
+"I don't know how I can spare my friend, when I've just found her," he
+said, searching her face with an intentness she found it difficult to
+bear. "I suppose I ought not to ask it, but--it's Christmas Eve, you
+know--and--you'll give me one more thing to remember--won't you, Nan?"
+
+She bent, like a warm-hearted child, and laid her lips lightly upon his
+forehead, but he caught her hands.
+
+"Is that the proper degree for friendship--and you feel that more would
+be too much?"
+
+She hesitated; then, as his grasp drew her, she stooped lower, blushing
+beautifully, to give the kiss upon his lips. But it was not the breath
+of a caress she would have made it. Invalids are sometimes possessed of
+unsuspected reserves of strength.
+
+She turned away then in a pretty confusion, said, "Good-night," and
+went slowly toward the door.
+
+"Oh, come back!" he cried. "Tell me--you will write often?"
+
+"Oh, yes; every--month."
+
+"Month? Won't you write every mail?"
+
+"Oh, Jerry!"
+
+"Every week, then?"
+
+"Will you?"
+
+"I will, whether you do or not."
+
+"Your ideas of friendship----"
+
+"Are they too exacting?"
+
+"No-o," she admitted, as if reluctantly. She was behind him now, her
+hands clasped together tightly, her eyes glowing with the light of a
+frightened purpose which was over-mastering her. He tried to turn and
+see her, but she defeated this.
+
+"Please come here," he begged.
+
+She was silent, trying to breathe more naturally.
+
+"Please----"
+
+"What good will it do?" she asked at last. "I shall have to go, and
+you--won't----"
+
+"Won't--what?"
+
+She crept up close behind his chair.
+
+"--_say it_," she whispered.
+
+He reached out his hand with a commanding gesture. "Nan, come here.
+Say--what?"
+
+She bent over the back of his chair and laid a soft, trembling hand on
+each side of his face.
+
+"Please say it," she breathed.
+
+He seized her hands and drew them to his lips. "Nan, you are tempting me
+almost beyond my power. Do you mean to tempt me? Are you trying to?"
+
+She leaned low, so that her breath swept his cheek, and whispered,
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Nan--are you insane? What if I say it--then
+how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now--and
+you--can't mean it."
+
+"_Say it!_" came the breath in his ear again.
+
+He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to
+speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most
+rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his
+shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face.
+
+"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever
+knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it while you go away
+for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and
+write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile--keep your heart free
+for--the man will surely come to claim it some day--a man who will be
+worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and--body. I shall be happy in
+your----"
+
+Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle
+insistence upon his mouth.
+
+"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough--please. I understand.
+That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you
+ought to say, of course. But--it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For
+it's not the thing--I'm waiting for you to say."
+
+"Nan----"
+
+"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a
+suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice.
+
+"But, Nan----"
+
+"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarrassing. And I ought to
+be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite
+sure that I shall sleep if you say it"--her voice dropped to a whisper
+again--"but I'm sure I shall not if--you--don't."
+
+"My dear girl----"
+
+"That's hardly warm enough, is it--under the circumstances--when you
+won't see me for a year? Jerry--a whole year----"
+
+"Nan--for the love of Heaven come around here!"
+
+"Not so much for the love of Heaven as----"
+
+"No--for the love of you--you--_you!_"
+
+She came at last--and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them
+after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so
+strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he
+began to speak--in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little
+brown curl touching his lips, it listened.
+
+"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it
+back. But you know--you must know, nothing can come of it."
+
+He heard her murmur, "Why?"
+
+"You know why."
+
+"I don't."
+
+He drew a deep breath.
+
+"Don't you want me?" she asked--into his shoulder.
+
+"Want you!"
+
+"You've everything to offer me."
+
+"Nan----"
+
+"Everything I want. Jerry"--she lifted her head and looked for an
+instant into his eyes--"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it."
+
+"A wreck of a life----"
+
+"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You--Jerrold
+Fullerton--whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in
+the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with--with me?"
+
+"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone."
+
+"No--his soul--all there is of him--his great personality--himself. And
+that's so much more than I can give in return----"
+
+"Nan, darling----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you
+come back, if----"
+
+"If I'm still of the same mind----Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a
+wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh.
+
+"--if I'm no worse--if I'm a little better----This is great medicine,
+Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then----"
+
+"I shall not go at all unless--unless----"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"--unless I am bound tight--tight--to you. I--I shouldn't feel sure of
+you!"
+
+"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath.
+"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but----"
+
+"If she will make it----"
+
+"Look at me, Nan."
+
+"I can't--long," she complained. "Somehow you--you--blind me."
+
+He laughed softly. "I realize that--you are blind--blind. But I can't
+open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try."
+
+"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I
+must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry--let me go, dear----Yes, yes--you
+must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme
+difficulty. "But I _can_ go now. I couldn't when I said good-night
+before----Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry----Merry
+Christmas, Jerry!"
+
+Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the
+back of his chair and whisper in his ear:
+
+"Jerry----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Am I really--engaged--to you?"
+
+"Darling--bless you--I'm afraid you are."
+
+"Afraid?"
+
+"Nan--I'm the happiest cripple on earth."
+
+So she went softly out and closed the door. But it was not to sleep. As
+for the man she left behind, his eyes looked into the smouldering fire
+till well toward morning. It was not the doctor's prescription, but it
+was the beginning of his cure.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THEIR WORD OF HONOUR
+
+
+The president of the Great B---- railway system laid down the letter he
+had just re-read three times, and turned about in his chair with an
+expression of annoyance.
+
+"I wish it were possible," he said slowly, "to find one boy or man in a
+thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter
+without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius"--he
+looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by--"I hope you
+are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I've not seen much
+of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I'm
+not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own
+importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, 3d, which is not desirable, sir--not
+desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah
+Woodbridge test to your boys?"
+
+Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No,
+I haven't, father," he said.
+
+"It's a family tradition, and if the proper care has been taken that the
+boys should not learn of it, it will be as much of a test for them as it
+was for you and for me, and for my father. You have not forgotten the
+day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"
+
+"That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.
+
+The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his
+chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a
+stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel
+pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius----" He shook his head doubtfully
+and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.
+
+"Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said in his peremptory way, "and
+whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour of
+inspection. That will be reward enough, I fancy."
+
+"Very well, sir," replied his son, and the two men went on with their
+work without further words. They were in the habit of dispatching
+important business with the smallest possible waste of breath.
+
+On Thursday morning, immediately after breakfast, Cyrus Woodbridge found
+himself summoned to his father's library. He presented himself at once,
+a round-cheeked, bright-eyed lad of fifteen, with an air of alertness in
+every line of him.
+
+"Cyrus," said his father, "I have a commission for you to undertake, of
+a character which I cannot now explain to you. I want you to take this
+envelope"--he held out a large and bulky packet--"and without saying
+anything to any one follow its instructions to the letter. I ask of you
+your word of honour that you will do so."
+
+The two pairs of eyes looked into each other for a moment, singularly
+alike in a certain intent expression, developed into great keenness in
+the man, but showing as yet only an extreme wide-awakeness in the boy.
+Cyrus Woodbridge had an engagement with a young friend in half an hour,
+but he responded firmly:
+
+"I will, sir."
+
+"On your honour?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That is all I want. Go to your room and read your instructions. Then
+start at once."
+
+Mr. Woodbridge turned back to his desk with the nod and smile of
+dismissal to which Cyrus was accustomed. The boy went to his room,
+opening the envelope as soon as he had closed the door. It was filled
+with smaller envelopes, numbered in regular order. Enfolding these was a
+typewritten paper which read as follows:
+
+     Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open
+     Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with
+Harold is off. Well, here goes!"
+
+On his way out he stopped to telephone his friend of his detention, took
+a Westchester Avenue car at the nearest point, and in twenty minutes was
+at the library. He found an obscure corner and opened "Env. No. 1."
+
+     Go to office of W. K. Newton, Room 703, seventh floor, Norwalk
+     Building, X Street, reaching there by 9:30 A. M. Ask for letter
+     addressed to Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. On way down elevator open
+     Env. No. 2.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus began to laugh. At the same time he felt a trifle irritated.
+"What's father at?" he questioned, in perplexity. "Here I am away
+uptown, and he orders me back to the Norwalk Building. I passed it on my
+way up. Must be he made a mistake. Told me to obey instructions, though.
+He usually knows just about why he does things."
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Woodbridge had sent for his elder son, Cornelius. A tall
+youth of seventeen, with the strong family features, varied by a droop
+in the eyelids and a slight drawl in the speech, lounged to the door of
+the library. Before entering he straightened his shoulders; he did not,
+however, quicken his pace.
+
+"Cornelius," said his father promptly, "I wish to send you upon an
+errand of some importance, but of possible inconvenience to you. I have
+not time to give you instructions, but you will find them in this
+envelope. I ask you to keep the matter and your movements strictly to
+yourself. May I have from you your word of honour that I can trust you
+to follow the orders to the smallest detail?"
+
+Cornelius put on a pair of eyeglasses, and held out his hand for the
+envelope. His manner was nonchalant to the point of indifference.
+
+Mr. Woodbridge withheld the packet and spoke with decision:
+
+"I cannot allow you to look at the instructions until I have your word
+of honour that you will fulfil them."
+
+"Isn't that asking a good deal, sir?"
+
+"Perhaps so," said Mr. Woodbridge, "but no more than is asked of trusted
+messengers every day. I will assure you that the instructions are mine
+and represent my wishes."
+
+"How long will it take?" inquired Cornelius, stooping to flick an
+imperceptible spot of dust from his trousers.
+
+"I do not find it necessary to tell you." Something in his father's
+voice sent the languid Cornelius to an erect position and quickened his
+speech.
+
+"Of course I will go," he said, but he did not speak with enthusiasm.
+
+"And--your word of honour?"
+
+"Certainly, sir." The hesitation before the promise was momentary.
+
+"Very well. I will trust you. Go to your room before opening your
+instructions."
+
+And the second somewhat mystified boy went out of the library on that
+memorable Thursday morning, to find his first order one which sent him
+to a remote district of the city, with the direction to arrive there
+within three quarters of an hour.
+
+Out on an electric car Cyrus was speeding to another suburb. After
+getting the letter from the seventh floor of the Norwalk Building, he
+had read:
+
+     Take cross-town car on L Street, transfer to Louisville Avenue,
+     and go out to Kingston Heights. Find corner West and Dwight
+     streets and open Env. No. 3.    C. W. Jr.
+
+Cyrus was growing more and more puzzled, but he was also getting
+interested. At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but
+found, to his amazement, only the singular direction:
+
+     Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there
+     go to _Sentinel_ Office and secure third edition of yesterday's
+     paper. Open Env. No. 4.    C. W. Jr.
+
+"Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to
+Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud. He caught the next train,
+thinking longingly of his broken engagement with Harold Dunning, and of
+certain plans for the afternoon which he was beginning to fear might be
+thwarted if this seemingly endless and aimless excursion continued. He
+looked at the packet of unopened envelopes.
+
+"It would be mighty easy to break open the whole outfit and see what
+this game is," he thought. "Never knew father to do a thing like this
+before. If it's a joke"--his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4"--"I
+might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a
+fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour'--that's
+putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm
+getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."
+
+It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city
+and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of
+order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a
+very satisfactory one:
+
+     Go to Cafe Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in
+     left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr.
+     Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8.    C. W. Jr.
+
+The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in
+the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and
+drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and
+the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's
+card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Cafe Reynard was a
+place famous the country over for its cookery.
+
+"I think I'll have--" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a
+laugh--"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me
+the----"
+
+Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and
+broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his
+face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why--why--this
+can't be----"
+
+"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the
+dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly:
+
+     Leave Cafe immediately, without stopping for luncheon,
+     remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to
+     box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for
+     matinee--"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env.
+     No. 9.    C. W. Jr.
+
+The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression
+resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation
+that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward
+the Metropolitan Theatre.
+
+"Who wants to see a matinee on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose
+I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs.
+Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in
+wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's
+doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as
+quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."
+
+Nevertheless, when at the end of the first act of a pretty play by a
+well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles
+to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the
+game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense.
+
+All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and
+suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it
+was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and
+commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and so on, which
+forbade loitering had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see
+no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He
+was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he
+reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This
+read:
+
+     Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read
+     No. 18.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his
+home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18--and the words fairly swam before
+his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken.
+
+     Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets,
+     reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19.    C. W., Jr.
+
+The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his
+pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour,"
+as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to
+their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have
+rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one
+long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned
+and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out
+toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights.
+
+As he did so, inside the house, on the other side of the curtain, from
+behind which he had been anxiously peering, Cornelius Woodbridge,
+Senior, turned about and struck his hands together, rubbing them in a
+satisfied way.
+
+"He's come--and gone," he cried softly, "and he's on time to the
+minute!"
+
+Cornelius, Junior, did not so much as lift his eyes from the evening
+paper, as he quietly answered, "Is he?" But the corners of his mouth
+slightly relaxed. One who knew him well might have guessed that he
+thought it a simple matter to risk any number of chances on a sure
+thing.
+
+The car seemed to crawl out to Kingston Heights. As it at last neared
+its terminus, a strong temptation seized the boy Cyrus. He had been on a
+purposeless errand to this place once that day. The corner of West and
+Dwight streets lay more than half a mile from the end of the car route,
+and it was an almost untenanted district. His legs were very tired; his
+stomach ached with emptiness. Why not wait out the interval which it
+would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban
+station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done
+enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger.
+
+Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had
+been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "_A chain is no
+stronger than its weakest link._" Cyrus jumped off the car before it
+fairly stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and
+Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour.
+
+Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even
+taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back,
+beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city
+messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope.
+
+"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd
+been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got
+seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad
+boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me."
+
+Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that
+served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident
+showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of
+some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His
+father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose
+indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his
+memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of
+him had been slighted.
+
+As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident
+that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No.
+20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering
+the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a
+sigh broke open the final seal:
+
+     Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B---- Railroad,
+     reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of
+     station, by telegraph office.    C. W., Jr.
+
+It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a
+machine--a hollow one--which could keep on going indefinitely.
+
+"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about
+from one place to another--never knowing where it's due next--always
+waiting outside--never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this
+schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this
+morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."
+
+The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock
+were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated
+spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one
+of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were
+officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He
+brought the boy a card which ran thus:
+
+     Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card
+     received at restaurant, the matinee coupon, yesterday
+     evening's _Sentinel_, and the envelope received at
+     Kingston Heights.    C. W., Jr.
+
+Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of
+thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them,
+but was back in three minutes.
+
+"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast.
+Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's
+private car. And Grandfather Cornelius he knew to be just starting on a
+tour of his own and other roads, which included a flying trip to Mexico.
+Could it be possible----
+
+In the car his father and grandfather rose to meet him. Cornelius
+Woodbridge, Senior, was holding out his hand.
+
+"Cyrus, lad," he said, his face one broad, triumphant smile, "you have
+stood the test--the Hezekiah Woodbridge test, sir--and you may be proud
+of it. Your word of honour can be depended upon. You are going with us
+through nineteen states and Mexico. Is that reward enough for one day's
+hardship?"
+
+"I think it is, sir," agreed Cyrus, his round face reflecting his
+grandfather's smile, intensified.
+
+"Was it a hard pull, Cyrus?" questioned the elder Woodbridge with
+interest.
+
+Cyrus looked at his father. "I don't think so--now, sir," he said. Both
+gentlemen laughed.
+
+"Are you hungry?"
+
+"Well, just a little, grandfather."
+
+"Dinner will be served the moment we are off. We've only six minutes to
+wait. I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid"--the old gentleman turned to
+gaze searchingly out of the car window into the station--"that another
+boy's word of honour isn't----"
+
+He stood, watch in hand. The conductor came in and remained, awaiting
+orders. "Two minutes more, Mr. Jefferson," he said. "One and a
+half----one half a minute." He spoke sternly: "Pull out at 8:14 on the
+second, sir. Ah----"
+
+The porter entered hurriedly, and delivered a handful of envelopes into
+Grandfather Cornelius's grasp. The old gentleman scanned them at a
+glance.
+
+"Yes--yes--all right!" he cried, with the strongest evidences of
+excitement Cyrus had ever seen in his usually imperturbable manner. As
+the train made its first gentle motion of departure, a figure appeared
+in the doorway. Quietly, not at all out of breath, and with precisely
+his own nonchalant manner, Cornelius Woodbridge 3d walked into the car.
+
+Then Grandfather Woodbridge grew impressive. He advanced and shook hands
+with his grandson as if he were greeting a distinguished member of the
+board of directors. Then he turned to his son and shook hands with him
+also, solemnly. His eyes shone through his gold-rimmed spectacles, but
+his voice was grave with feeling.
+
+"I congratulate you, Cornelius," he said, "on possessing two sons whose
+word of honour is of the sort to satisfy the Hezekiah Woodbridge
+standard. The smallest deviation from the outlined schedule would have
+resulted disastrously. Ten minutes' tardiness at the different points
+would have failed to obtain the requisite documents. Your sons did not
+fail. They can be depended upon. The world is in search of men built on
+those lines. I congratulate you, sir."
+
+Cyrus was glad presently to escape to his stateroom with Cornelius.
+"Say, what did you have to do?" he asked eagerly. "Did you trot your
+legs off all over town?"
+
+"Not much, I didn't!" said Cornelius, grimly, from the depths of a big
+towel. "I spent the whole day in a little hole of a room at the top of
+an empty building, with just ten trips down the stairs to the ground
+floor to get envelopes at certain minutes. Not a crumb to eat nor a
+thing to do. Couldn't even snatch a nap for fear I'd oversleep one of my
+dates at the bottom. Had five engagements, too--one with Helena Fowler
+at the links. All I could do was to cut 'em and stick it out.
+Casabianca was nothing to me."
+
+"I believe that was worse than mine," commented Cyrus reflectively.
+
+"I should say it was. If you don't think so, try it."
+
+"Dinner, boys," said their father's voice at the door, and they lost no
+time in responding. When they had taken their seats and the waiter came
+for Cornelius's order, that youth simply pushed the card of the
+elaborate menu to one side, and said emphatically, quite without his
+customary drawl: "Bring me everything, and twice of it."
+
+"Me, too!" said Cyrus, with enthusiasm.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+HALF A LEAGUE ONWARD
+
+
+The Rev. Arthur Thorndyke stirred at his desk with a vague impatience on
+account of a little droning sound which had been bothering him for the
+last ten minutes without his realizing what it was. He recognized at
+last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be
+allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For
+Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he
+was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he
+had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many
+inadequate introductions.
+
+"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he
+had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that
+morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty
+hard time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to
+the men in blue--and gray--and brown, for we have all sorts here, you
+know."
+
+It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he
+was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David
+thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been
+in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's
+company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really
+been in very few engagements.
+
+"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And
+I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only,
+you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my
+playing is out there."
+
+Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward,
+when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He
+peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was
+out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the
+square might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and
+May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its
+only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of
+the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of
+the clash and shock of arms.
+
+The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was
+being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men.
+From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words:
+
+    "Flash'd all their sabres bare,
+    Flash'd as they turned in air
+    Sabring th' gunners there,
+    Charging an army, while
+        All th' world wonder'd:
+    Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke
+    Right through th' line they broke;
+    Cossack an' Russian
+    Reeled from th' sabre-stroke
+        Scatter'd an' shunder'd.
+    Then they rode back, but not----"
+
+The boy's voice wavered. Uncle Arthur saw him put up a thin hand and
+wipe his white little brow. Major David's plays were always intensely
+real to him.
+
+"_Not--the six hundred_," he murmured, and sank down on the window-seat,
+gazing mournfully out over the square. But in a moment he was up again.
+
+"Cannon to right of 'em," he began again, sternly. "Cannon to left of
+'em----"
+
+Uncle Arthur crept away without bidding him remember his promise. What
+is a Memorial Day address beside the charge of a Light Brigade?
+
+It was only two days after this that David's mother summoned David's
+four uncles to a conference. David had no father. There was a granite
+boulder up in the cemetery which ever since David was four years old--he
+was ten now--had been draped once a year with a beautiful silken flag.
+All the Thorndyke men had been soldiers, and David's father had died at
+the front, where the Thorndyke men usually died. It was a matter of
+great pride to David every year--that silken flag.
+
+David's four uncles were all soldiers--in a way. There was Uncle
+Chester; he had been breveted colonel at the close of the Civil War,
+and Colonel Thorndyke he was--against his will--always called still.
+Next came Uncle Stephen; he was a captain of artillery in the regular
+army, and had lately come home on a furlough, after three years' service
+in the Philippines. Then there was Uncle Stuart, just getting strong
+after an attack of typhoid fever. In a week he would be back at West
+Point, where he was a first classman and a cadet lieutenant. As for
+Uncle Arthur, David always regretted deeply that he was no longer in
+either volunteer or regular army, although he took some comfort from the
+fact that Uncle Arthur sometimes told him that he had never felt more
+like a soldier than he did now.
+
+It was a hasty and a serious conference, this to which Mrs. Roger
+Thorndyke had summoned her dead husband's three brothers and his uncle.
+She felt the need of all their counsel, for she had a grave question to
+settle. She was a young woman with a sweet decisiveness of character all
+her own, yet when a woman has four men upon whom she can call for wisdom
+to support her own judgment, she would be an unwise person to ignore
+that fact.
+
+"It's just this," she told them, when she had closed the door of
+Arthur's study, where they had assembled. "You know how long we've been
+hoping something could be done for David, and how you've all insisted
+that when Doctor Wendell should decide he was strong enough for the
+operation on the hip-joint we must have it. Well, he says a great
+English surgeon, Sir Edmund Barrister, will be here for just two days.
+He comes to see the little Woodbridge girl, and to operate on her if he
+thinks it best. And Doctor Wendell urges upon me that--it's my chance."
+
+She had spoken quietly, but her face paled a little as she ended. Her
+youngest brother-in-law, Stuart, the cadet, himself but lately out of
+hospital, was first to speak.
+
+"When does he come?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?"
+
+"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't
+sure whether----"
+
+"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major
+mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain
+Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service.
+
+"You all think it's best to have it done?"
+
+"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in
+that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at
+anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is
+international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The
+cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command--he was an
+excellent cadet lieutenant.
+
+But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel
+Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most
+relied. He nodded at her.
+
+"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as
+good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to
+his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and
+figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a
+cripple.
+
+So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see
+David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he thought wise,
+as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose
+another question: Who should tell David?
+
+"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of
+the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of
+you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always
+playing he's a soldier, and if--if one of you could put it to him--in a
+sort of military way----"
+
+She stopped, for this time her lips were really trembling. They looked
+at one another, the four men, and there was not a volunteer for the
+task. After a minute, however, Arthur, lifting his eyes from the rug
+which he had been intently studying, found the others were all facing
+him.
+
+"You're the one," said Captain Stephen Thorndyke.
+
+"I think you are," agreed Colonel Chester Thorndyke.
+
+"It's up to you, Art," declared Cadet Lieutenant Thorndyke, with his
+usual decision of manner.
+
+So, although Arthur protested that he was not as fit for the mission as
+any of the others, they would not let him off.
+
+"You're the one he swears by," Stephen said, and Stuart added:
+
+"Put on your old khaki clothes, Art; that'll tickle the major so he
+won't mind what you tell him."
+
+It was a suggestion which appealed to the young clergyman as he lay
+awake that night, thinking how he should tell the boy in the morning. It
+seemed to him somehow that it would take the edge off the thing if he
+could meet David in the old uniform which the child was always begging
+to see.
+
+Just before he fell asleep he thought of his Memorial Day address. Since
+the morning, day before yesterday, when David's play had interrupted his
+first futile efforts at it, he had found no time to work on it. He had
+had a wedding and two funerals to attend, besides having to look after
+the preparation for his Sunday services. The following Saturday would be
+Memorial Day. Meanwhile--there was David.
+
+The next morning Mrs. Thorndyke, on her way to Arthur's study to tell
+him that the doctor had telephoned that he would bring the English
+surgeon to the house at eleven o'clock for the preliminary examination,
+ran into a tall figure in a khaki uniform, a battered slouch hat in his
+hand.
+
+"Why, Arthur!" she cried, then added quickly: "Oh, my dear, that's just
+what will please him! I'm so glad it's you who are to tell him--you'll
+know how."
+
+"I don't know how," said her brother, and she saw that his eyes were
+heavy. "But I expect the Commander-in-Chief will show me how." And with
+these words he went into his study and closed the door for a moment
+before David should come, in order that he might get his instructions
+from headquarters.
+
+When the boy came in on his crutches, he found a soldierly figure
+awaiting him. He saluted, and the tall corporal returned the salute. The
+deep eyes of the man met the clear, bright ones of the child, and the
+corporal said to the major:
+
+"I am ordered to report to you, sir, that the enemy is encamped on the
+opposite shore, and is preparing to attack."
+
+Half an hour afterward Mrs. Thorndyke came anxiously to the door of the
+study. Hearing cheerful voices within, she knocked, and was bidden to
+enter.
+
+Her first glance was at little David's face. To her surprise, she saw
+there neither fear nor nervousness, only an excited shining of the eyes
+and an unusual flushing of the cheeks. The boy rose to meet her.
+
+"I'm ready, mammy," he announced in his childish treble. "Uncle Arthur
+says I've got a chance to prove I'm a soldier's son and a Thorndyke, and
+I'm going to do it. The enemy's encamped over in the hospital, and I'm
+going to move on his works to-day. I'm going over with my staff. This is
+Corporal Thorndyke, and Colonel Chester Thorndyke and Captain Stephen
+Thorndyke and Lieutenant Stuart Thorndyke are my staff. And the corporal
+has promised that they'll go with me in uniform. I'm going to wear my
+uniform, too--may I?"
+
+The oddness of the question, made in a tone which dropped suddenly and
+significantly from the proud address of the officer to the humble
+request of the subaltern, brought a very tender smile to Mrs.
+Thorndyke's lips, as she gave her brother a grateful glance. "Yes," she
+said, "I think you certainly ought to wear your uniform. I'll get it
+ready."
+
+"I may be taken prisoner over there," the little soldier pursued, "but
+if I do, Uncle Ar--the corporal says that's the fortunes of war, and I
+must take it as it comes."
+
+Downstairs, presently, David, under a flag of truce, met the opposing
+general and his staff. The bluff-looking Englishman with the kind manner
+made an excellent general, David thought.
+
+They detained him only a half-hour, but when he left them it was with
+the understanding that his army should move forward at once and attack
+upon the morrow. It seemed a bit unusual, not to say unmilitary, to
+David, to arrange such matters so thoroughly with the enemy, but his
+corporal assured him that under certain conditions the thing was done.
+
+There being no other part of the "Charge" that would fit, David said
+over to himself a great many times on the way to the hospital the
+opening lines:
+
+    "Half a league, half a league,
+      Half a league onward.
+    All in th' valley of Death
+      Rode th' six hundred...."
+
+As he went up the hospital steps, tap-tapping on his crutches because he
+would not let anybody carry him, the situation seemed to him much
+better. He stopped upon the top step, balanced himself upon one crutch,
+and waved the other at his staff--and at the "Six Hundred," pressing on
+behind.
+
+    "Forward, th' Light Brigade!
+    'Charge for th' guns!' he said...."
+
+"What's the little chap saying?" Uncle Chester murmured into the ear of
+Uncle Arthur, as the small figure hurried on.
+
+"He's living out 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,'" Arthur answered,
+and there was no smile on his lips. Uncle Chester swallowed something in
+his throat.
+
+It may have been a common thing for the hospital nurses and doctors to
+see a patient in military clothes arrive accompanied by four other
+military figures--the uniforms a little mixed; but if they were
+surprised they gave no sign. The nurse who put David to bed wore a Red
+Cross badge on her sleeve--hastily constructed by Doctor Wendell. This
+badge David regarded with delight.
+
+"Why, you're a real army nurse, aren't you?" he asked happily.
+
+"Of course. They are the kind to take care of soldiers," she returned.
+And after that there was a special bond between them.
+
+When they had finished with David that night he was rather glad to have
+Corporal Thorndyke say to him that there was a brief cessation of
+hostilities, and that the men were to have the chance for a few hours'
+sleep.
+
+"But you'll stay by, won't you, Corporal?" requested the major sleepily.
+
+"Certainly, sir," responded the corporal, saluting. "I'll be right here
+all night."
+
+The corporal at this point was so unmilitary as to bend over and kiss
+him; but as this was immediately followed by a series of caresses from
+his mother, the major thought it best not to mind. Indeed, it was very
+comforting, and he might have missed it if it had not happened, even
+though he was supposed to be in the field and sleeping upon his arms.
+
+The next morning things happened rather rapidly.
+
+"No rations, Major," said the Red Cross nurse, when he inquired for his
+breakfast.
+
+"Commissary department left far to the rear," explained the corporal,
+with his salute; and of course there was nothing more to be said,
+although it did seem a little hard to face "the jaws of death" with no
+food to hearten one.
+
+A number of things were done to David. Then Doctor Wendell came in and
+sat down by the high white bed, and, with a reassuring smile at his
+patient, gave him a few brief directions. The corporal took David's hand
+in his, and held it with the tight grip of the comrade who means to
+stand by to the last ditch.
+
+    "Forward, th' Light Brigade!
+    Was 'ere a man dismay'd?
+    Not though the soldier knew
+        Some 'un had blunder'd...."
+
+"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out
+into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand.
+
+    "Theirs not to make reply--
+    Theirs--not to--reason--why--
+    Theirs--but--to--do--an'--die----"
+
+The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met
+the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to
+her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold.
+
+"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the
+waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were
+marching up and down during the period of suspense.
+
+"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart.
+"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering,
+'Theirs not to make reply----'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray
+sleeve across his eyes.
+
+"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's
+boy, all right."
+
+There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the
+good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and
+was rallying bravely.
+
+"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end
+successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor
+together.
+
+"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur.
+"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now,
+if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the
+pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of
+danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short
+of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course,
+in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch
+courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach
+to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm
+going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between
+now and then."
+
+That Memorial Day address! How was a distraught young clergyman to
+think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the
+bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life?
+
+It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the
+fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak
+confidently. Through it all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur
+Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should
+never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips.
+
+Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this
+is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the
+'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester
+and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be
+there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little
+bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can
+salute, you know, even if they can't see you."
+
+"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David.
+
+Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion I'm going to open my mouth,"
+he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I
+never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's
+mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I
+know."
+
+He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up
+at him.
+
+"Uncle Arthur--but--but--I wasn't plucky--all the time. Sometimes--it
+hurt so I--had to cry."
+
+The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't
+count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band."
+
+Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached,
+mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother
+and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he
+could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then
+stopped; the drums beat.
+
+"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David,
+disappointed.
+
+The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst
+with a crash into the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with
+delight.
+
+"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were;
+David could see them.
+
+The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon
+the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room;
+but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by
+Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were
+wonderful:
+
+_"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah--comrade!"_
+
+David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would
+never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ----th
+New York, had called him comrade. He thought of them tenderly; he
+murmured the closing words of the "Charge," and by them he meant the men
+who had stood outside his window and cheered:
+
+    "When can their glory fade?
+    O th' wild charge they made!
+        All th' world wonder'd.
+    Honour th' charge they made!
+    Honour th' Light Brigade,
+        Noble six hundred!"
+
+An hour afterward they came in together, his four Thorndyke soldiers, in
+their uniforms--all but Uncle Arthur, who, because he was a clergyman,
+and had had to make a speech, had felt obliged to put on a frock coat.
+
+"Here's the fellow who's been worrying over his Memorial Day address!"
+cried Uncle Stephen proudly.
+
+"It was a rousing good one," declared Stuart.
+
+"Never heard a better," agreed Uncle Chester. "He's gone 'half a league
+onward,' if the rest of us have stood still."
+
+Uncle Arthur came round, his face rather red, and sat down beside David.
+
+"Don't you believe them, Major," he said softly. "I could have done it
+much better if I could have worn my corporal's uniform."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+A COURT OF INQUIRY
+
+BY GRACE S. RICHMOND.
+
+
+This is a charming story of a group of girl and men friends and the
+effect of their pairing off upon the narrator and her "Philosopher."
+Althea, Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, Hepatica--and their several
+entanglements with the Promoter, the Cashier, the Skeptic, the Judge and
+the Professor, form an admirable background of diverse personalities
+against which grows the main love story. One sees these charming groups
+through the eyes of the one who tells the tale--and very shrewd and
+delightful eyes they are, seeing life in its true perspective with much
+real philosophy and true feeling. Mrs. Richmond has never written
+anything more fresh and human and entertaining.
+
+
+ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
+
+    Red Pepper Burns.
+    Mrs. Red Pepper.
+    The Indifference of Juliet.
+    Round the Corner in Gay Street.
+    With Juliet in England.
+    Strawberry Acres.
+    The Second Violin.
+
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+Publishers,--New York
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's notes:
+
+"Where-ever" on page 78 has been changed to "Wherever" to be consistent
+with the spelling in the rest of the text.
+
+"everbody" on page 96 has been changed to "everybody".]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Court of Inquiry, by Grace S. Richmond
+
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