e twilight.

* * * * *

The Philosopher came and sat down by me.

"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset.
I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But
when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here
together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I
have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her
clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored.
Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?"

"Lovely," I agreed heartily.

"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I
should naturally think the Gay Lady's clothes cost considerably less
than Miss Camellia's."

"Considerably."

"Though I never really thought about them before," he owned. "I don't
suppose a man usually does think much about a woman's clothes--unless
he's forced to. During this last week it occurs to me we've been forced
to--eh?"

"Somewhat." I was smiling to myself. I had never imagined that the
Philosopher troubled himself with such matters at all.

"And I don't think," he went on, "I like being forced to spend my time
speculating on the cost of anybody's clothing.--How comfortable it is on
this porch! And how jolly not to have to sit up in a black coat--on a
July evening!"

The Skeptic and the Gay Lady returned--after an hour. The Skeptic, as he
came into the light which streamed out across the porch from the hall,
looked decidedly more cheerful than when he had left us. Although it had
been too dark in the garden to see either the Gay Lady's clothes or her
smile, I doubted if he had been bored.

III

DAHLIA

O, weary fa' the women fo'k,
For they winna let a body be!
--_James Hogg._

My neighbour Dahlia has returned. There is a considerable stretch
of lawn, also a garden and a small orchard, intervening between her
father's property and mine, not to mention a thick hedge; but in spite
of these obstructions it did not take Dahlia long to discover that
there were guests upon my porch. I think she recognized the Skeptic's
long legs from her window, which looks down my way through a vista
of tree-tops. At all events, on the morning after her arrival she
appeared, coming through the hedge, down the garden path and across
the lawn, a fresh and attractive figure in a pink muslin with ruffles,
and one of those coquettish