d abandoned it for the Romanesque stone
structure in front, an oppressive place.

Its oppression seemed congenial to George; he sat upon the copestone of
the stone parapet, his back against a stone pilaster; his attitude not
comfortable, but rigid, and his silence not comfortable, either, but
heavy. However, to the eyes of his mother and his aunt, who occupied
wicker chairs at a little distance, he was almost indistinguishable
except for the stiff white shield of his evening frontage.

"It's so nice of you always to dress in the evening, Georgie," his
mother said, her glance resting upon this surface. "Your Uncle George
always used to, and so did father, for years; but they both stopped
quite a long time ago. Unless there's some special occasion, it seems
to me we don't see it done any more, except on the stage and in the
magazines."

He made no response, and Isabel, after waiting a little while, as if she
expected one, appeared to acquiesce in his mood for silence, and turned
her head to gaze thoughtfully out at the street.

There, in the highway, the evening life of the Midland city had begun.
A rising moon was bright upon the tops of the shade trees, where their
branches met overhead, arching across the street, but only filtered
splashings of moonlight reached the block pavement below; and through
this darkness flashed the firefly lights of silent bicycles gliding by
in pairs and trios--or sometimes a dozen at a time might come, and not
so silent, striking their little bells; the riders' voices calling and
laughing; while now and then a pair of invisible experts would pass,
playing mandolin and guitar as if handle-bars were of no account in the
world--their music would come swiftly, and then too swiftly die away.
Surreys rumbled lightly by, with the plod-plod of honest old horses, and
frequently there was the glitter of whizzing spokes from a runabout or
a sporting buggy, and the sharp, decisive hoof-beats of a trotter. Then,
like a cowboy shooting up a peaceful camp, a frantic devil would hurtle
out of the distance, bellowing, exhaust racketing like a machine gun
gone amuck--and at these horrid sounds the surreys and buggies would
hug the curbstone, and the bicycles scatter to cover, cursing; while
children rushed from the sidewalks to drag pet dogs from the street.
The thing would roar by, leaving a long wake of turbulence; then the
indignant street would quiet down for a few minutes--till another came.

"Ther