great and wise Charles Reade tells how his hero, who had an island,
a treasure ship, and a few other trifles of the sort to dispose of,
insisted upon Captain Fullalove's throwing away the stick he was
whittling, as giving the captain an unfair advantage. The value of the
embroidered doily as an article of table napery may be open to question,
but its value, in an unfinished state, as an adjunct to discreet
conversation, is beyond all dispute.

"Ought I to say good night?" asked John with a smile, as he seated
himself on the disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Carling.

"I don't see any reason," she replied. "It isn't late. Julius is in one
of his periods of retiring early just now. By and by he will be sure to
take up the idea again that his best sleep is after midnight. At present
he is on the theory that it is before twelve o'clock."

"How has he been since your return?" John asked.

"Better in some ways, I think," she replied. "He seems to enjoy the home
life in contrast with the traveling about and living in hotels; and
then, in a moderate way, he is obliged to give some attention to
business matters, and to come in contact with men and affairs
generally."

"And you?" said John. "You find it pleasant to be back?"

"Yes," she said, "I do. As my sister said, we are quiet people. She goes
out so little that it is almost not at all, and when I go it has nearly
always to be with some one else. And then, you know that while Alice and
I are originally New Yorkers, we have only been back here for two or
three years. Most of the people, really, to whose houses we go are those
who knew my father. But," she added, "it is a comfort not to be carrying
about a traveling bag in one hand and a weight of responsibility in the
other."

"I should think," said John, laughing, "that your maid might have taken
the bag, even if she couldn't carry your responsibilities."

"No," she said, joining in his laugh, "that particular bag was too
precious, and Eliza was one of my most serious responsibilities. She had
to be looked after like the luggage, and I used to wish at times that
she could be labeled and go in the van. How has it been with you since
your return? and," as she separated a needleful of silk from what seemed
an inextricable tangle, "if I may ask, what have you been doing? I was
recalling," she added, putting the silk into the needle, "some things
you said to me on the Altruria. Do you remember?"

"Perfectly," said John. "I t