ervice 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," s