gray.

"I should think your profession would be perfectly grand, Mr. Ballard.
Don't you find it so?" Thus Miss Dosia, who, being quite void of
subjective enthusiasm, felt constrained to try to evoke it in others.

"Very," said Ballard, hearing nothing save the upward inflection which
demanded a reply.

Miss Van Bryck seemed mildly surprised; but after a time she tried
again.

"Has any one told you that Mr. Wingfield is making the studies for a new
play?" she asked.

Again Ballard marked the rising inflection; said "Yes," at a venture;
and was straightway humiliated, as he deserved to be.

"It seems so odd that he should come out here for his material," Miss
Van Bryck went on evenly. "I don't begin to understand how there can be
any dramatic possibilities in a wilderness house-party, with positively
no social setting whatever."

"Ah, no; of course not," stammered Ballard, realising now that he was
fairly at sea. And then, to make matters as bad as they could be: "You
were speaking of Mr. Wingfield?"

Miss Van Bryck's large blue eyes mirrored reproachful astonishment; but
she was too placid and too good-natured to be genuinely piqued.

"I fear you must have had a hard day, Mr. Ballard. All this is very
wearisome to you, isn't it?" she said, letting him have a glimpse of the
real kindness underlying the inanities.

"My day has been rather strenuous," he confessed. "But you make me
ashamed. Won't you be merciful and try me again?" And this time he knew
what he was saying, and meant it.

"It is hardly worth repeating," she qualified--nevertheless, she did
repeat it.

Ballard, listening now, found the little note of distress in the protest
against play-building in the wilderness; and his heart warmed to Miss
Dosia. In the sentimental field, disappointment for one commonly implies
disappointment for two; and he became suddenly conscious of a
fellow-feeling for the heiress of the Van Bryck millions.

"There is plenty of dramatic material in Arcadia for Mr. Wingfield, if
he knows where to look for it," he submitted. "For example, our camp at
the dam furnishes a 'situation' every now and then." And here he told
the story of the catapulted stone, adding the little dash of mystery to
give it the dramatic flavour.

Miss Dosia's interest was as eager as her limitations would permit. "May
I tell Mr. Wingfield?" she asked, with such innocent craft that Ballard
could scarcely restrain a smile.

"Certainly. And if Mr.