ir. We ought to be pretty near
the Heavenly Gates by this time. I reckoned she thought they opened into
Newport. She said I ought to be ashamed to ridicule the Bible. I had to
have my joke. It's queer how different the world looks to women."

"And how does it look to men?" asked Miss Lamont.

"Well, my dear young lady, it looks like a good deal of fuss, and
tolerably large bills."

"But what does it matter about the bills if you enjoy yourself?"

"That's just it. Folks work harder to enjoy themselves than at anything
else I know. Half of them spend more money than they can afford to, and
keep under the harrow all the time, just because they see others spend
money."

"I saw your wife and daughter driving away just now," said King,
shifting the conversation to a more interesting topic.

"Yes. They have gone to take a ride over what they call here the
Cornneechy. It's a pretty enough road along the bay, but Irene says
it's about as much like the road in Europe they name it from as Green
Mountain is like Mount Blanck. Our folks seem possessed to stick a
foreign name on to everything. And the road round through the scrub to
Eagle Lake they call Norway. If Norway is like that, it's pretty short
of timber. If there hadn't been so much lumbering here, I should like
it better. There is hardly a decent pine-tree left. Mr. Meigs--they have
gone riding with Mr. Meigs--says the Maine government ought to have a
Maine law that amounts to something--one that will protect the forests,
and start up some trees on the coast."

"Is Mr. Meigs in the lumber business?" asked King.

"Only for scenery, I guess. He is great on scenery. He's a Boston man.
I tell the women that he is what I call a bric-er-brac man. But you
come to set right down with him, away from women, and he talks just as
sensible as anybody. He is shrewd enough. It beats all how men are with
men and with women."

Mr. Benson was capable of going on in this way all day. But the artist
proposed a walk up to Newport, and Mr. King getting Mrs. Pendragon
to accompany them, the party set out. It is a very agreeable climb up
Newport, and not difficult; but if the sun is out, one feels, after
scrambling over the rocks and walking home by the dusty road, like
taking a long pull at a cup of shandygaff. The mountain is a solid mass
of granite, bare on top, and commands a noble view of islands and ocean,
of the gorge separating it from Green Mountain, and of that respectable
hil